Right Where We're Supposed To Be
by Tigerwalk
Summary: AU Rick and Michonne and lots of other characters. Rick Grimes is a cop who has recently gone through a tough time. He has a group of friends who are helping him through it but a new member of their circle quickly proves she understands him better than any other.
1. Chapter 1

"So, who is coming out for my birthday on Friday?" Andrea asked, excitedly. She was perched on the edge of Daryl Dixon's desk, swinging her high heels from her toes, counting down the minutes until she was officially off the clock. She was already pulling her blonde curls out of the clip that held them behind her head.

"You know I'm always up for a reason to imbibe, honey," Shane flirted from the aging metal desk across from her. He was leaned back with one foot up on the desk and the other pushing his rolling chair back and forth across the beige tiled floor and the corners of his dark brown eyes scrunched up in a mischievous smile.

Andrea grinned back at him having never doubted he would be attendance. She glanced back up at the clock. Ten more minutes and she could justify going straight home from the local police precinct instead of stopping back at the D.A's office. She had been there reviewing evidence for a case and, as was her custom, she stopped at the cluster of desks in the front, right hand corner of the room to chat with a few of the officers whom she knew outside of her official court duties.

"Grimes? Dixon?" She swung around to face Officer Dixon who was lounging in his chair behind her, staring at his phone. She figured his answer would affect the next man's.

"I ain't doing nothin' else," he said, without looking up from the screen. The three of them turned to Rick Grimes who was pretending to be interested in something on his computer screen. "You in?" Daryl nodded in his direction.

"Yeah, I don't know. It's hard with Carl…" he started.

"I'll call your mom", Shane interrupted with a large grin, "see if she can watch him. She can't say 'No' to me. See, I'll just explain to her how you were given a perfectly good reason to come out on a Friday night but you continued to use your son as an excuse to not have any life whatsoever. I'm sure she will be as disappointed in you as we are."

"Shane", Rick sighed, pushing a hand through his short, brown, waves of hair that begged to curl if they were allowed to grow just a little longer. "Do not call my mother. I'll think about it."

"That's all we ask, Brother," he winked. It was Shane's turn to look up at the clock. "You headed to the parking garage?" he asked Andrea.

"If you're willing to be my escort," she smirked, hopping down from Daryl's desk and grabbing her bag. "I'll see you ALL on Friday," she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door, Shane following close behind.

Daryl turned to his partner once they were alone. "It's only a couple drinks, man. It won't suck. I'll take care of any nosy citizens." He could tell Rick felt uneasy about it, understandably, given the looks he got from people whenever they recognized him from around the small town or from the newspaper. People liked to talk and his friend, through no fault of his own, had given them a lot to talk about recently. The way he dealt with it gave them even more reason to talk.

Rick looked over at him with one eye still on his computer screen. Shane and he had been best friends since middle school but, in the last couple years, Daryl had proven to be the friend he needed in his adult life. Shane always had to fill the silence, a trait which used to entertain Rick but, especially after everything that had happened, he was glad for the silent camaraderie his partner offered. Daryl didn't need to talk all the time and Rick preferred not having to pretend to listen. It had been a rough year for him to say the least and Daryl was always there, silently and patiently waiting for him to come back from whatever rabbit hole his dark thoughts brought him down. "My mom will be pissed if I miss an opportunity to give her Carl for the night," he reasoned.

Daryl looked back down at his phone giving his friend time to work it out on his own.

"Who's drivin'?" Rick asked, finally.

"Just come to my house at 8. I'll drive and we'll get the night shift guys to drive us home." A smirk played on the corner of his mouth.

Rick shook his head, wearing his own smile. He knew Daryl had done this before. "Fine."

...

"Andrea, it's a two hour drive," her friend reasoned, holding the phone with her bare, brown shoulder while trying to shrug on her blazer.

"Ok, so cut out at five like normal people do and you'll be here by 7. We'll get ready fast. The place is right down the road from my apartment."

She sighed loudly for dramatic effect, trying to think of her next point.

"Michonne, don't you want to meet some people before you move here next month? I mean, this is as much for you as it is for me. Maggie will be there. You'll be working closely with her. It will be good to have a friend in the office on day one." Andrea took a long sip of her wine as she paced her kitchen. She was intent on having a good time and the more people she gathered to celebrate, the better the potential for a fun night. Michonne was her best friend and she was not letting her off the hook. "It's my birthday!" she reminded her.

"Your birthday is Tuesday," Michonne sighed, pulling her dreaded locks into a ponytail before wrapping her scarf around her neck.

"Ok, so you're out of reasons not to come. I'll see you at 7. Bring something cute to wear and your drinking shoes."

"I do not know what that means but I will come," she laughed as she grabbed her car keys from her desk. "Bye, Andrea."

"Bye!" she sung, excitedly.

...

The rest of the work week came and went with little to no fanfare. By 8pm on Friday Andrea and Michonne were walking through the front door of what looked to Michonne to be a typical country dive bar that also happened to be the only one in town. She was feeling a little over dressed in her tight black pants and grey blouse. Andrea quickly spotted her friend by the slightly dingy and definitely crooked pool table.

"Maggie! I knew I could count on you to get us started." She gestured to the pink cocktail in the younger woman's hand. "This is my friend Michonne. She is starting next month with Mayor Monroe."

Maggie's green eyes sparkled in the exact same hue as her satin sleeveless top she had paired with a pair of dark jeans and black heels. She wore her hair in a bouncy bob cut that curled in every direction on the ends and she seemed every bit as fun as Andrea described. "Michonne! So nice to meet you! I'm very excited to have some new blood at work." Maggie was the public relations manager for the mayor and was making a nice career for herself despite the small town. "You'll love working with Deana. She's got great plans for her second term." The brunette's smile was infectious and Michonne liked her right away. "Andrea says you're a lawyer too. Tired of the courtroom scenes?"

"I just got sick of bearing witness to people's worst days," Michonne smiled shyly. "I'm excited about the opportunity to do something positive."

"And what about the change in scenery? Won't you miss the city life?"

"I needed the change there too."

Picking up on Michonne's vagueness, Maggie decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Well, Andrea says you're the life of the party," she smiled widely. "Want to get a drink?"

Michonne gave her friend a sideways glance but her tone was light. "Andrea hasn't been around in a few years" she said, matching Andrea's grin. "But, it's Friday night, so let's get a drink."

"I'll meet you over there. I see Shane coming in so I'll just wait for him to buy me a drink." Andrea winked at the other two ladies and headed to the restroom.

Michonne and Maggie shook their heads at their friend and saddled up to the corner of the bar attempting to flag down the bartender. It was a busy night at the town's only tavern and the music was louder than usual, signaling the end of the work week. People pushed in a few at a time; girls dressed up for the weekend, men in small packs setting up behind the dart boards. Occasionally, a couple would saunter in looking every bit the part of being on a first date.

Maggie grinned at each person that passed by, recognizing many and just being friendly to the rest. "So, have you got a place already?" she started, waving again at the man behind the bar.

"I think so. I put a deposit down on a small house down by the lake for rent. As long as my references check out, which shouldn't be a problem, it will be mine."

"Oh! Lake house party!" Maggie gasped. The bartender finally noticed her. "I would love a Cosmo, please, Morgan." She looked at Michonne expectantly.

"Can you make a Sidecar?" she asked him, trying not to sound too out of place.

The man's face crinkled into a smile that danced all the way up to his dark eyes. "Surely." He set about rimming her glass with a lemon and whistled a quiet tune while he worked. Michonne could see why the wait was so long. Everything seemed to move a little slower here.

Just as she pondered how the bartender was going to keep up with the rush, two men appeared at the other side of the bar corner and Maggie jumped off her stool to greet them. "Rick?!" She squealed as she hugged the first man, throwing her fist out from behind his back to bump the other man's. "I can't believe you came!". Michonne took in his button down shirt, a faded blue, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She was still unsure of the Friday night dress code in these parts. His jeans were dark and he had boots on, of course. The other man looked equally casual in a black, long-sleeve henley with slightly lighter jeans. She was going to have to buy some more comfortable clothes.

"Yeah, well, Andrea has a few of my cases so, I need to stay on her good side." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and then promptly mussed her hair up, earning him an arm punch that looked like it actually hurt.

Maggie fixed her hair in the mirror above the bar feigning offense. "Don't start, Daryl," she warned the other man who was snickering at her, pretending to fix his own strands. She finished her primping and turned to Michonne with the intention of introducing her when a bubbly woman with long blonde hair, slid in between the two men, facing Rick. She placed her hands on his chest and threw her head back to look up at him.

"Oh, my God, Rick. It is so good to see you. How are you doing? I haven't seen you back at the barber shop since and I just couldn't stop worrying after everything I was readin' in the paper.."

"Hi, Jessie." Rick could feel his palms start to sweat and he immediately regretted not taking his own car as the urge to exit the scene was strong. "I, I've been ok. I'm just busy with Carl and ya know," he trailed off, not knowing how to end the sentence.

Daryl stepped next to her putting his arm around the woman's shoulder. "Hey, Jessie, you know I think I hear your date calling your name." He pulled her off in the direction of a group of men whom she had come in with who were all staring over at Rick.

Maggie gave Rick a sympathetic look and followed after Daryl, worried about what he would say to the poor woman. "Dixon!" she whispered harshly as she followed.

Michonne watched her go and then looked around for Andrea who was nowhere to be found. Morgan had placed her drink in front of her and was currently pouring two rocks glasses of whiskey in front of Rick. She settled into her stool and sipped while she watched Maggie's friend pay the man and sit down. He nodded in her direction and held up his glass in lieu of a hello.

"So, you look like you don't want me to ask what that was all about," she smiled at him.

He smiled back, holding her eyes a little longer than she was used to and she was taken aback by the way his eyes seemed almost to glow, they were so blue. He looked down at his drink for a moment then took a sip, the ice clinking in his glass as he tipped it. When he was done he looked back over at her, squinting slightly as if he was trying to figure something out. "You're not from here," he said as he leaned back a little on his stool, his boots coming to rest on the bottom rung.

"Is it that obvious?" She laughed slightly, wondering if it was her lack of accent that gave her away. He sounded like a country song about a broken down truck and she was sure her inflection was out of place here, as well as her dreaded locks and boots that she couldn't ride a horse in.

"Nah," he drawled, "It's just that if you were from here you would know what that was about." A hint of a smile curled on one side of his face but his eyes remained serious.

She picked up that it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. She understood privacy. Andrea had never allowed her to keep anything to herself but she did understand the desire to so, she dropped it, choosing instead to smile back and hold her own drink up as he had just done.

….

"Dixon!" Andrea caught up to him at the jukebox after he had dropped Jessie off to her friends. Maggie remained with them, caught in a conversation she was too nice to excuse herself from.

"Hey, Andrea. Happy Birthday." He leaned in to a one armed hug, taking care not to spill her drink.

"I'm glad you made it. The night is young and it's gonna be a good one!" She held her drink up over her head as if to toast her statement. "Did you come alone?"

"Nah, Grimes is with me." He nodded over to the bar where Rick sat near Michonne.

"Wow, he actually made it out. I'm impressed," she smiled genuinely.

"I should probably get back over there. Told him I'd run interference on the well-wishers" He eyed Michonne, wondering what part of his friend's life she was inserting herself into.

"He's ok. That's my friend, Michonne. She isn't from around here so she's not gonna bring anything up. And she can handle Mr. "Angry is the New Black" Grimes." She let the punchline of her joke trail off as her eyes met Daryl's with one brow furrowed. She looked like a light had just gone off inside her head and he immediately read her mind.

"No."

"Wait, hear me out."

"No," he repeated, about to walk away.

She grabbed his elbow to stop him with a pleading look in her eye. "Seriously, Daryl, listen. She doesn't know him. She doesn't know Lori. Nothing about any of it. And she's beautiful, you have to admit that. Look at that ass!" She smirked at him, still holding on to his arm.

"Whose ass? What's going on? Thanks for leaving me, Dixon." Maggie approached them looking tired from the pleasantries she had been faking with Jessie.

"Andrea's tryin' to set Rick up with someone."

"Ohhhh, that's a bad idea." She scrunched her face up a bit like she had just tasted something sour.

"What? Maggie, I was talking about Michonne." Andrea smoothed her black jacket as if she was about to make an argument in the courtroom. "I think this is brilliant."

Maggie looked over her shoulder at Rick, trying to reconsider but she wasn't sold. "Andrea, I just don't know. This is the first time he has made an effort to come out. Let's not go too far too fast."

"Look, I was just telling Daryl, he's sick of all the sympathy and the stares, right? Well, she doesn't know a thing about it. Plus, Michonne is tough, she can handle him and his attitude and his brooding and all that Rick Grimes angst."

Maggie's face turned into a frown, sympathetic to her friend. "That's harsh, Andrea, after all he's been through."

"So, what's in it for her? You think he's such a tough sell." Daryl glared at her.

"Hey, guys, wait. Don't paint me as the bad guy here. You know I love Rick. I really do feel for him and I want him to be happy. I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't trust her." She was feeling a little outnumbered under their matching stares. "We've all got our shit, right? He doesn't want his being everybody's business and I don't need to be spilling hers. I just think they could be good together. She's steady, unexcitable. He could use a calming presence and she could use another friend here. "

Maggie looked like she was thinking hard. She recalled how vague Michonne had been when she brought up her leaving the city. Maybe she did have stuff she was working through, too. "He won't allow it if you're obvious. It will have to be organic."

"Ok, ok. I won't actively try to set them up, but there is no reason we can't work both sides of this thing." She looked up as if she was trying to formulate a plan. "You guys work on him, I'll work on arranging the opportunities. Just opportunities."

"Ya'll are on your own. I don't want no part of this." Daryl looked hard at his two friends making his objections clear.

"Plausible deniability, Dixon? You're smarter than you look." Andrea winked at him but was met with a cold stare. "Wow, you guys are loyal. I hope y'all would have my back the same way."

"Yeah, well, we'll see how this thing turns out. You may need someone to have your back after this." Daryl left them, finding his way back to his friend at the bar.

Rick greeted Daryl with a nod and pushed his now watery whiskey over in front of him.

"Thanks." Daryl took the drink and then nodded toward Michonne, looking her up and down as if he was trying to size her up for a fight. "Hey."

"Hi," she smiled back looking again for Andrea. These local cops were a little too intense for her right now. She wondered how her friend came to know them personally, as they didn't seem like they were having much fun.

"Hey, sorry about that." Maggie rejoined her, picking up her cocktail that was next to Michonne's almost empty glass. "Andrea found Shane," she said to the three of them, "they're headed over in a minute."

...

"So, then I said 'Hey, man, you wanna rob a liquor store, next time try one where the cops are a little less fun.' I cuffed him and made him wait while I picked out all the booze for the party and loaded it in my trunk. Dropped him off at the station on my way home." Shane's voice was booming over the music and they all laughed at his story. They had moved to a large table, finding the bar to be a bit crowded for their growing group.

"So, how do you all know each other?" Michonne asked, still giggling at the story. "Just work?"

"Well, Maggie and I met at a fundraiser for Monroe. She was the only other person in the room with a cocktail in each hand and I knew we would become friends." Andrea recounted, earning a laugh from Maggie's boyfriend, Glenn, who had joined them late. He stood behind Maggie's chair, having a conversation with a woman who had not yet greeted the group, while still keeping an ear at the table.

"I'm not gonna _not_ partake in the open bar," Maggie shrugged. "And Tara works with Glenn." She gestured toward a younger looking girl with dark hair who was seated next to her.

"And they both work for me." The large, red headed man, standing next to the boothed side of their table, opened his arms wide to punctuate his point.

"And what is it they do for you, Abraham?" Michonne giggled at her drink and the man's odd mustache.

"They run these boys to the hospital, mostly." He gestured to the three officers seated next to each other in the booth to Michonne's right.

"Paramedics," the woman who was speaking to Glenn interjected. "And we don't work for him, he's just the loudest so he thinks he's in charge. I'm Sasha." The dark skinned woman extended her hand to Michonne looking like she had thrown on an after hours outfit without having time to pull her hair from the tight bun she probably wore from work.

Michonne smiled and shook her hand introducing herself. "So, in a little town like this, you still manage to get hurt on the job?" She directed her question to Daryl, Shane and Rick. "I would have figured you for a lot of running red light incidents."

"I think he's referring to the time Shane got bit by some lady's chihuahua while he was trying to show off his billy club," Daryl offered as he took a sip of his beer. Rick and Maggie both laughed out loud as Shane waved him off.

"Well, between the dog bites and this one getting shot, we spend a lot of time givin' em free rides downtown." He gestured at Rick and Michonne noticed he was biting his full, lower lip looking like he hoped the conversation would end there.

Maggie noticed as well and decided to help his cause. "Rick's daddy was a friend of my daddy's so we've known each other a long time. Shane too." She briefly thought of the two of them as teenagers and smiled.

"Her dad would make us walk her to school," Rick remembered, looking to extend this change of subject. "Always in trouble, that one."

"Yeah, Yeah," Maggie waved at him. "And you never told so you were just as bad."

"That's why we became cops, you opened our eyes to all the bad deeds being done in this town."

"Like I said, I knew we would be fast friends as soon as I met her," Andrea laughed. "I'm ordering a round of shots." She got up and walked toward the bar before anyone could object, Shane following her.

As the night wore down, Glenn and Maggie settled into their own booth after a time on the dance floor and Abraham drove Sasha home. Tara was at the bar talking with Morgan while Michonne and Andrea sat with Shane and Rick, still holding onto the larger table. Daryl was back at the jukebox looking disappointed as he scrolled through the selections.

"I don't know why he thinks he's gonna find something new in that thang," Rick drawled, pointing at his partner with his beer bottle.

"Morgan likes the atmosphere a certain way in here, man. He ain't havin nothin' Dixon would be playin'." Shane laughed quieter now that the alcohol had hit him. "How you ladies gettin' home?"

"Walking. And you should be too, Officer." Andrea smiled across the table at him. Her chin in her hands.

Rick looked over at Michonne, suddenly feeling like he was intruding on their moment. He laughed inwardly at the look she was giving her friend. She was probably staying at Andrea's that night and the possibility of Shane working his way there too had her raising her eyebrow. He had noticed immediately that she was the more responsible of the two friends. Not that she wasn't just as fun, she just seemed more aware of herself and her surroundings. Taking everyone in around her. "So, Andrea said you were moving here. What are you going to be doing?"

"Special Counsel to the Mayor," Michonne answered, the words sounding too mature for the age she felt in the bar that night.

"Really?" Rick said. "So, you're replacing Olivia? She won't be missed," he deadpanned, finishing his beer in one sip.

Michonne laughed. "Is that so? Well, Olivia is still around. She is actually moving to the PR department so she's Maggie's boss now."

His eyes crinkled up into a smile at the thought. "Not for long, then."

"Rick, Leon is on his way to pick us up," Daryl called as he returned to the table.

Rick looked at his watch, 1am. "Alright. I'm gonna settle up with Morgan. You ladies are really walking?" He turned to Michonne and then looked back at Andrea and Shane.

"It's alright, man. I got em'," Shane said to Michonne's rolling eyes.

Rick laughed again. "Well, it was good to meet you, Michonne. Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll see you around," She said as she picked up her bag to follow Shane and Andrea on the walk back to Andrea's apartment.

Rick's eyes followed her out, thankful for the lack of explaining he had to do that night. After Daryl had dealt with Jessie the night had gone better than he had thought it would.

"Grimes, Dixon. Let's go." An annoyed looking officer came in through the front door letting them know their ride was here. "You guys are gonna get me in trouble."

Daryl laughed as he and Rick settled their tabs and followed the officer outside, hopping in the back of the cruiser for their ride home.

...

"So," Andrea started, while pouring coffee in two mugs on her kitchen island, "what did you think of everyone?" Shane had left sometime in the night or early morning as far as Michonne could see. Both women sat in sweats and t shirts, their makeup still on from the night before.

"It was fun. I'm glad I came. It will be nice working with Maggie."

"Yeah, she's a blast. So, how about everyone else?" Andrea walked around and took a seat next to her friend.

"Everyone seemed nice." Michonne scrolled through her email on her phone as they spoke.

"Besides Maggie, did you get along especially well with anyone else?"

Knowing her friend all too well, she put her phone down and looked her in the eye. "Are you trying to ask me something specific, Andrea?"

Andrea remembered her deal with Maggie. "Nope. Just wanted to make sure you knew that you'll have plenty of friends when you arrive."

"Well, thanks. I just got an email. I got the house. Looks like everything's going according to plan."

"Sure is," she smirked.


	2. Chapter 2

"We getting beer for this?" Daryl asked from the passenger side of Rick's truck.

"I forgot to ask," Rick smiled, keeping his eyes on the road.

"You're the one with the truck, not sure how I got roped into helping someone move."

"She has a U-Haul. We're just lifting. You could have taken your bike. Besides, it's a nice day and it's on the lake. It will be worth it."

"There'd better be beer."

"Text Walsh and tell him to bring some."

Daryl took out his phone and thumbed the keys. " _Beer."_

" _Got it."_ Shane replied

"He's on it."

When they arrived the sun was high in the sky and it was shaping up to be a beautiful and warm autumn day. Andrea handed them both a beer as soon as they stepped out of their truck and Rick gave Daryl a smile.

"Thank you guys so much." Michonne followed Andrea to greet them. "It is really kind of you to help me. We have lots of beer and food to repay you"

"No problem at all," Rick replied. "Dixon was actually just saying he was really happy he was able to help." Daryl nodded, taking full credit for the philanthropy his friend lied about.

"Well, it's a small place so there isn't too much heavy lifting to do." Michonne gestured to the U Haul which was open and pulled up close to the front porch.

"I assume Walsh is running late," Daryl snarked.

Rick and Daryl got to work on a couple dressers, ferrying them into the house with ease while Andrea and Michonne started carrying boxes. Michonne was dressed in leggings and a tank top and both men couldn't help but notice their new friend's form as she easily lifted heavy boxes up the stairs. Daryl watched Rick watch her and wondered if this was part of Andrea's plan to not plan anything. She gave no sign of being up to anything and once Shane arrived she was occupied with flirting with him. Preferring to let his friend come to these types of realizations on his own, he decided on continuing with his plausible deniability stance.

It took all three men to get the large, sectional sofa in the front door and positioned in the small living room. Michonne carried a black trunk that sat in front of it serving as a coffee table and pretty much filling the room.

"So, all that's left is assembling the bed," Andrea started. "Rick, you up for helping Michonne with that while Dixon and Walsh start the grill?"

There it was. Daryl almost scoffed at the need for two of them to start the grill but Rick didn't seem like he was catching on to Andrea's plan, so he let it be.

"Sure, no problem," Rick offered.

"Thank you." Michonne smiled as she lead him outside to where the slats and sides of the frame lay against the front of the house. They carried them in as a team and Rick laid them out on the floor in the order they would be assembled.

They chatted comfortably as he tightened screws and she held the boards in place. Once it was set up they each took an end of the mattress and laid it down over the platform frame. Michonne jumped onto it and laid back, sprawling out in exhaustion. "I can't believe I live here now." She flopped over onto her stomach looking up at Rick.

"Here in this house or here in this town?" Rick smirked, sliding down the wall he leaned on until he was seated on the floor.

"Both, I guess." She thought back to her modern apartment in Atlanta and the fast pace of her life. Now she was living like a retiree on a lake, ordering drinks that took twenty minutes and a conversation to mix. But, the people were nice and her new job was a step up in her career. She had stopped into her office on the way into town to drop off some things she planned on keeping there and she remembered something she saw on her calendar. "Hey, I saw your name today."

Rick immediately tensed. He imagined she had read a newspaper article about his injury and he was already thinking of ways to leave the room. Once people had the beginning of the story there was little he could do to avoid them knowing the end of it. "Yeah?" he managed, turning away from her to put his tools back into the box.

"Yeah, on my work calendar. I was syncing it to my phone and I noticed a ceremony coming up in a few months where you were one of the guests of honor."

Rick tried to take his time organizing driver bits in the case so he didn't have to make eye contact with her. He should have figured she would have to attend that since she would be working with the Mayor but, it hadn't occurred to him. "Yup. I'll be there."

Michonne watched him as he looked the other way and she could see the muscles in his neck were tensed. It was starting to make sense that whatever everyone in this town seemed to know about him was connected to that ceremony. She noticed him actively trying to calm himself down by rubbing a circle on his left palm with his right thumb, a tip she suggested to her clients before they testified in a case. She contemplated how to handle the situation with care as he ran out of things to pretend to do.

He finally looked up at her, resigning himself to the conversation he assumed was about to happen. She would ask him how he was shot and he would tell the story. She would bring up the picture in the paper of him and his wife when he woke up from the coma. She would realize he wasn't wearing a ring now, 7 months later. The connections would be made and then she would probably do a little more research. Maybe she had done it already. She would find out why everyone looked at him like he was going to break down at any minute. Like he deserved their pity and prayers. And then she would look at him like that. Maybe even be a little afraid of him, depending on how much she'd heard. Too bad, he thought. He was enjoying having one person not look at him like that for once.

"Good," she smiled. "It will be nice to see familiar faces at these things."

He was squinting at her, trying to figure out if she was letting him off the hook or figuring out how to ask. "You know," she began, "The law firm I worked at in Atlanta handled some pretty big cases. Newspaper headline stuff. Reporters wanting answers all the time. The higher ups, well, they could avoid the attention because they lived in the fancy communities with gates and door men. I wasn't there yet. Yet!" She pointed at him humorously when he chuckled. She pulled herself up to a sitting position on the bed, crossing her legs in front of her. "Well, I had a case once that was a bigger deal than I was used to. There was this one particular reporter, worked for the local TV station. He was on a warpath. Trying to make a name for himself at all costs. So, he was staked out outside my apartment building for awhile. Anytime I left the house he hollered over at me, wanting a statement, wanting some big clue he thought I had."

Rick fiddled with his watch as he listened, feeling himself calm slightly when the story stayed on her. He kept his eyes on the floor despite her attempts at meeting his gaze, but he watched her hand motions out of the corner of his eye as she accentuated her story.

"Well, one day I had just had enough. I came out of my apartment to go for a run and I was holding my keys in my fist, as I always do when I workout in the city. He got right up in my face this time. Shouting at me for a statement. He grabbed my elbow, lightly, he wasn't going to hurt me. But it was enough. I turned around and hit him right in the jaw, then, before I knew what I was doing, I lifted my keychain and found the little red bottle attached to it and sprayed my pepper spray right in his eyes."

Rick looked up at her finally. His eyes open to their normal size which, given the squint he usually held, made him look wide eyed. He was surprised but also feeling something akin to empathy as he understood being brought to one's boiling point. He looked her up and down trying to figure out if she was sharing that understanding of him by telling the story.

"Anyway, it wasn't my finest moment but sometimes you lose your ability to play nice. It happens."

Rick took awhile to respond, processing what she had said, turning over her ending words in his mind. 'It happens'. She had struck him as someone with a pretty even emotional state. Less excitable than Andrea for sure but then again he wasn't sure he was able to tell anything about anyone anymore. Not after Lori. He nodded his understanding of the moral of her story. He was calm now, her words had taken him back into what felt like a comfortable moment. If she knew, she wasn't letting on and he appreciated it. "You want to grab a beer?" he said finally.

"Yeah." She smiled sweetly at him, glad she seemed to have diffused his tension. "Let's see if they have the grill going yet." She jumped up from the bed, her hair flipping over her shoulder and he watched as she left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Sorry for just putting this in on the 3rd chapter but this is my first time posting and I wasn't sure how to do it. Anyway, I love all of your stories on this site! I am really interested in the idea of alternate universes where people are in different circumstances but still mean the same thing to each other, so, I thought, what a great writing experiment. I also love the challenge of trying to write for someone else's character and stay within the traits assigned to them. It's tough! So anyway, here it is. Lots more chapters to upload but I haven't finished the whole story yet. It's quite the slow burn.

Rick drove down Hershel's long dirt driveway, his headlights coming to a stop upon the white wrap around porch and old screen door of the farmhouse. The makeshift bandage he had wrapped around his left hand was soaked through with blood and the large cut above his right eye was stinging. His phone was vibrating in the seat next to him and he put the truck in park and reached for it.

" _You need me to come take a look?"_ Abraham texted him.

" _How did you hear?"_ he replied.

" _Had my radio on."_

He sighed as he thought of how many other people heard that way.

" _I'm good. I'm at Hershel's now."_ He responded after a moment.

" _Alright, Officer. Just try to stay with us, ok?"_

The phrase struck a chord with Rick, the memory of Abraham holding his head between two bloody, gloved hands in the back of the ambulance came rushing into his mind. Sasha speeding down the highway, sirens blaring. He could hear Glenn telling Daryl to hold his hand tight over Rick's chest. Abraham had told him to stay with him the day he was shot and he had repeated the phrase a few more times over the last months as Rick had continued to show he wasn't quite back yet.

" _I'm trying."_ He typed as he shoved the phone in his pocket and walked, head low, towards Hershel's door. He knew he had good friends on his side. He appreciated them even though he couldn't seem to stop making them worry. Today he saw it even in Daryl's usually stoic expression. He was just a little bit afraid of what Rick would do next. That's why he had come here instead of letting Daryl drive him to the hospital. He didn't want to have that conversation with his partner yet.

As he went to grab the doorknob, having long since abandoned the practice of knocking at this man's house, Maggie opened the door and stared at him. "Rick, are you ok?"

"Yeah, where's your dad?"

"He's upstairs getting some supplies. Daryl texted me, said you would probably be coming here." The night was warm but she was rubbing her arms as if the sight of him made her cold. It was a habit he recognized from accident scenes and other incidents where people were shaken by what they saw. It made him wonder what his face looked like. He hadn't bothered to check yet.

"Where are you headed?" He noticed her hair was done and she looked ready to leave the house. He wanted to change the subject.

"I was going over to Michonne's house. Girl's night. I can stay if you need me to," she said kindly, dipping her head a bit to catch his gaze as he walked past her into the house and toward the dining room.

"I'm fine, Maggie." He waved her off. "Go. Have a good time." He pictured her sitting on the couch he'd carried into Michonne's small cottage, chatting with the other women and for some reason he found himself wondering what Michonne would be drinking tonight. How she would be wearing her hair. If she was feeling comfortable being thrown in with this group of women who were all so close. She probably had no problem fitting in, laughing with them, being light. She was steady. He didn't know her well but he could tell that, and something inside him envied it.

"Ok. Where's Carl?" Maggie brought over a glass of water and a beer and set it in front of Rick on the table.

"He's with my mom tonight. I wasn't supposed to be out until 9 but couldn't really keep on like this." He held his bandaged hand up as he sipped his beer with the other.

"You stayin' here tonight, then?"

He nodded, knowing he always had a room and he didn't want to go back to his own house alone tonight.

"I'll see you in the morning then." She kissed the top of his head and grabbed her bag to go. She passed Hershel coming down the stairs as she made her exit and Rick caught the worried look she gave her dad. 'Her too', he thought.

"Rick," the old man greeted as he took a seat across the table. He reached over to take Rick's hand in his, turning it over to see if the blood was soaking both sides of the gauze. "Why are you here instead of the hospital?"

"Had my fill of the looks today. You're more than capable." Hershel was a veterinarian but his medical skills were transferable. He had patched him up numerous times as a kid after a fall off a bike or some other foolishly acquired laceration landed him bloodied. "I appreciate it."

Hershel nodded and went to work unwrapping the gauze Rick had sloppily applied to his palm. "You know," he started, "When my wife died, I used to think there wasn't any point in taking care of myself anymore. I started drinking more, even took up smoking again." He looked up at Rick's face but didn't find any eye contact and so he continued. "Seemed to me if I couldn't have the life I wanted then I would just stop trying to preserve it. I'd end up where she was, a little faster. See her again."

"Lori ain't dead." Rick winced as Hershel pressed a gauze soaked in hydrogen peroxide onto his hand then wrapped a clean bandage over the wound. He took out some more gauze, soaked it and leaned forward pressing it to the cut on Rick's face.

"No," he said softly, "she's not. But your life isn't what it was before. And you're not taking care to preserve it. You're slipping, Rick. We all see it. We understand why and no one is judging you for it but…"

Rick scoffed out loud at the man's perception. Everyone was judging him for it. People he knew, people he didn't. They were judging him for Lori's transgressions. They were judging him for the situations he kept finding himself in since he woke up. They looked at him with pity and fear and they judged him to be just a little different, just a little off. He could see it in their eyes.

"Rick, I'm not judging you. I know you. I know who you are and I still see you there. But," he slowed, his words measured, "I'm worried that maybe I see you a little less now."

Rick paused for a moment, taking another draw from his beer. Hershel had always talked him through life. When things were bad with Lori, he knew without him having to say it. He welcomed him over when going home wasn't an option. He didn't make him talk but when he did Hershel listened. He sucked in a long breath before breathing out his response. "I just, I just feel like when I woke up in that hospital everything was different. My life had disappeared while I was asleep. Maybe, sometimes, I just wonder if there's a reset button that I just need to hit again. Maybe the next time I wake up things will be back to the way they were and so I'm not so afraid of whatever might land me back in that hospital." He looked up to meet Hershel's eyes searching for his reaction to what he had just said. Wondering whether the man would think he was crazy. Rick felt he had a tentative relationship with his sanity right now and he wondered if his friend saw that too.

Hershel leaned back in his chair a bit and nodded slowly. He was quiet for a few moments squinting into Rick's eyes. Part of the reason Rick could speak to Hershel was that he knew he didn't say anything without thinking it through and he was thinking. Finally, he said, "nothing is going to be the same as it was, Rick. You know that deep down. But, that doesn't mean it can't be good again. You have Carl. It can be good again for you and for him. You can grow from this. But landing yourself in the hospital again, that wouldn't be good for either of you. I know you know that."

Rick nodded. He did know that, he just found it hard to remember in certain moments, when the rage he felt boiled over and his well being started to feel like something he couldn't control. Hershel stood from the table and put a hand on Rick's shoulder. "There's clean sheets in the guest room." He picked up the last of the scraps of paper left from the bandages and walked toward the sink. "Stay as long as you like."

After helping Hershel close up the barn for the night and thanking him again for bandaging him up, Rick finally lay back on the comfortable mattress of the family's guest bed. The air was thick with humidity and it wasn't helping the fact that he felt like he couldn't breath. He kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his uniform shirt letting it lay open so the small breeze coming in through the open window would dry his damp undershirt. The beer was causing his eyelids to feel heavy but his mind was still wide awake. The events of the afternoon played like a movie in his brain.

A man had called the station to report a disorderly patron at the local bank and Rick and Daryl had responded. They recognized the man immediately as Daryl's older and estranged brother. The man had a rap sheet a mile long and, though Daryl tried to avoid being the one to take him in for the bigger offences, he figured they could easily diffuse a drunken Meryl in the middle of the day.

When they arrived Meryl was standing face to face with another man of similar build and I.Q., yelling about something the other man owed him. Meryl was a big guy but had never been great at fighting so his opponent seemed to already have the edge. If there was one thing Meryl didn't like it was losing a fight so, just as the officers came through the door, Meryl pulled out a knife from the jacket he wore. He held it up to the other man in a menacing way while addressing his brother. "You come to arrest this thief for me, little brother?"

"Why don't you just back away and maybe we can talk about what kinda allegations you're making against this guy," Daryl responded. Both officers had their hands resting on their side arm ready to be forced into the escalating situation.

Meryl laughed at Daryl's request. "Oh, and I suppose you just gonna take down my statement and his and we can all work it out at the People's Court, huh? Cops always looking to help out the little guy. We can get to the bottom of this, right?" As he laughed he turned slightly toward the two officers and the other man ducked out of his reach and rolled along the wall behind a pillar. Rick's eyes stayed glued on Meryl as Daryl told the other man to get up against the wall where they could see him.

At this Meryl knew he had lost his leverage. It was just him versus Rick and Daryl and like the caged animal he was, he started going wild. He waved his knife back and forth, pointing it menacingly at each one of them. "Y'all come in here to save the day? Well, come on. Bring me in. Come on over here, cuff me." Daryl put a hand out and started to speak to the man but Rick had had enough. He walked straight toward Meryl's blade knocking his arm away with his left forearm. His right hand went straight for Meryl's throat. A woman screamed from behind him.

"What the hell!?" Daryl growled as he shoved the gun that he had been palming back down into his holster.

Meryl laughed again staring straight into Rick's eyes while his hand contracted on his windpipe. He got the knife up again near Rick's midsection but Rick knocked it away and to the ground, catching the blade on his palm before it fell. He could feel the warm blood run down his arm and it enraged him. His hand tightened around Meryl's neck, his bleeding, left hand outstretched, blood dripping on the floor.

"Rick!" Daryl yelled, snapping him back to the moment. Meryl took the opportunity to punch him hard in the ribs in his left side. Losing feeling in his hand, he found it hard to block the blows and Meryl got a few good hits in. Daryl was on them then, pulling Meryl back by the neck causing Rick to lose his grip on him. When they were pulled apart Meryl raised his arm one more time, drawing back and hitting Rick above his right eye. He felt the skin break and felt the blood drip into his eye. Shaking his head and spraying droplets of blood onto the wall, he tackled Meryl, taking Daryl with him too. Once he had Meryl pinned to the floor he hit him hard in the nose, feeling it crack beneath his knuckles.

"That all you got, Officer Friendly?" Meryl screamed from the floor. Daryl's leg was pinned under his brother and Rick used the freedom to connect his fist to Meryl's jaw before Daryl finally freed himself and pulled Rick, by the shoulders, off of Meryl.

"Let me go!" Rick growled.

"No!"

"Let me go!"

"No!" He felt his partner pull him up to a standing position and shove him aside. He barely maintained his footing, stumbling backwards.

Daryl had Meryl to the ground at this point, slipping his cuffs onto the flailing man. Rick looked around at the scene. The manager was standing in front of two younger women who worked there, trying to shield them from the fray. He recognized a teacher from Carl's school and his mailman standing by one of the counters staring back at him with horrified faces. The blood continued to drip down his face, wetting the collar of his uniform. Once he saw that Daryl had Meryl under control he turned on his heel and slammed the front door open heading for his cruiser.

Rick closed his eyes trying to shake the image from his mind but he couldn't. He sat up against the headboard and replayed it again from the start.

….

"Hi Ya'll!" Maggie sang as she held up a bottle of wine over her head, squeezing past Michonne to enter the house.

"Hey," a familiar male voice answered. Maggie turned to see Glenn sitting on the couch.

"What are you doing here? It's girl's night, Glenn. You're not allowed." Maggie stepped over to greet him, handing the wine to Michonne.

"I'm leaving." He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Was just dropping Sasha off from our shift. I wasn't going to leave before I saw you. What took you so long?"

Maggie grabbed his hand and pulled him to the edge of the room, away from the open archway to the dining room.

"What's that about?" Andrea gestured toward the couple from her seat at the dining room table.

"Probably Rick," Sasha answered, turning over her shoulder to view the couple's secret exchange.

"What about him?" Andrea threw some crackers in her mouth looking expectantly toward her friend while Michonne opened the bottle Maggie had arrived with.

"We heard he had an incident." Sasha was trying not to gossip but she had been worried herself and was interested to see how the other women registered the story. "During a call. Apparently walked straight into a knife fight and got himself all cut up. Made a bit of a scene at the bank this afternoon."

"Rick made a scene?" Andrea feigned shock as she took the glass of wine Michonne handed her. Sasha took one too and Michonne joined them at the table. She didn't know Rick well enough to participate in the conversation but she found herself wanting to hear how it unfolded.

"Andrea," Sasha warned, "cut him some slack."

"Alright, alright. Is he ok?"

"Ask Maggie. I think he went to Hershel's instead of letting Daryl call us."

"Sorry, guys. He's gone," Maggie gestured as she sat down next to Michonne, thanking her for the glass that waited at her place.

"Sasha was just telling us Rick was over at your place?" Andrea asked, toning down her sarcasm for the new company.

Maggie hung her head and shook it. "He was. He looked like shit. Big cut on his eye, bleeding through a bandage on his hand. My daddy was gonna fix it up."

"What the hell happened?" Andrea asked, hoping Maggie would have more of a scoop than Sasha had provided but a knock on the door brought their attention away from the subject.

Michonne went to open it and greeted Rosita, a small Latina women with long black hair which was pulled back into a high ponytail. She was a friend of Andrea's whom Michonne had only met once before when she tagged along to a kickboxing class one weekend, but she found her to be friendly and she definitely seemed like she would be a fun addition to the night . "Hey, nice place!" Rosita chimed. "Good to see you again, I brought wine." She handed Michonne another bottle and meandered through the living room, taking in the quaint cottage as she made her way to the table.

"Where's Tara?" Maggie asked, "I thought she was coming with you?"

"She couldn't come. She's sick as a dog. None of you want me bringing that in here." Rosita poured herself a glass of the already open wine gesturing to Michonne for permission.

Michonne nodded. "That's too bad. She seems sweet." She took another sip secretly hoping the previous conversation would start back up so she could hear how Rick was but she wasn't sure how Rosita knew the rest of the group and if they would speak of him in front of her.

Her question was answered when Rosita sat down at the island next to the table and laughed. "It's really too bad Lori can't join us anymore," she deadpanned, earning a laugh from Andrea and a sigh from Sasha and Maggie. Michonne had heard Shane refer to Rick's ex wife as Lori and her ears perked up.

"Yeah, I'd like to see her again, I tell you right now. Give me one more glass of wine and then I dare her to be in the same room with me ever again." Maggie's threat had Sasha giggling and Andrea's mouth was wide.

"You all were the ones that liked her. I knew from the start that girl was a bitch. Always glaring at me whenever I talked to Rick, then would turn around the next minute and be all arguing with whatever thing he said." Rosita's eyes got darker and her spanish accent thicker as she recalled her former acquaintance.

"Well, at least we have someone to talk about." Sasha grinned mischievously.

Michonne had finished her glass of wine and was getting tired of trying to piece together the puzzle that was forming over the last few weeks of getting to know these people. She looked around the table as she refilled her glass from the bottle Rosita handed over to her. "Alright you guys, I've really been trying not to ask too many questions because it seems like a sore subject that everyone knows whatever they know, but what is the story here?"

They all looked over at her with various looks on their face, simultaneously realizing she had no idea what had happened and questioning whether they should have been sharing all of this information the whole time. Andrea remembered her reasoning for wanting Michonne to meet Rick and contemplated how giving her all of the details might derail her plan, or at least the support she had for it from Maggie. However, if Rick was going to keep giving everyone something to talk about, she couldn't keep her friend from hearing the story for long and maybe he would ruin the plan anyway with his behavior. It had to be better to control the way the story was told, she figured, assuming Maggie would agree given her Public Relations career. She had pretty much talked herself into it when Maggie started to speak.

"It's probably better you hear it from us, his friends," Maggie said, as if she had read Andrea's mind. She exchanged a glance with Sasha before she continued. "You heard Abraham talking about Rick getting shot awhile back."

Michonne nodded, recalling the conversation and the way Rick had seemingly willed it to end.

"It was pretty bad," Sasha chimed in. "Just a freak thing. Guy had too much to drink and stole a car in the next town over, headed this way. Rick and Daryl got called to pursue."

"Wait, wait, let's set the scene right guys," Rosita interjected. "Start back, Rick was married to this puta named Lori." She slipped easily into Spanish as her buzz kicked up. "Continue."

"Ok, so Rick used to be married. You know he has a son," Maggie picked up. "Well, this guy in the car was armed but no one knew it from the report and he ended up crashing the car, crawling out, coming face to face with those guys." Maggie paused, taking another sip, remembering hearing about her friend's close call. "Rick told him to stop but the guy fired behind him as he was running away. Hit Rick once in the leg and once in the shoulder outside his vest. They don't even think he was aiming, just bad luck."

"Wow," Michonne whispered. "That's awful."

"That's not even the bad part," Andrea added as she got up from the table to refill the cheese plate they had been munching on.

"He was in a coma," Sasha started. "We got the call. Brought him in. Abraham watched him fade out as they carried him off of the ambulance. It was...it was bad." She shook her head remembering the day and Daryl covered in Rick's blood. "He didn't wake up for 8 weeks."

"Oh my God," Michonne said, her eyes wide. "That's a long time."

"Long enough for Lori, I guess." Rosita shook her head with narrowed eyes and Michonne met her gaze waiting for her to elaborate.

Maggie started again, softly, "Lori, was there everyday for the beginning. Playing the grieving wife, talking to the papers about Rick's service to the force, his sacrifice. Asking for prayers for him to wake up."

"All that bull shit," Rosita said.

"Total bull shit," Andrea remarked, starting to feel bad for her previous sarcasm now that she was hearing the story again out loud.

"Once he woke up she got her nice pictures in the paper and was, from all appearances, overjoyed. But when Rick got home, barely on his feet yet, he gets a knock on the door. Lori opens it and in barges Phillip, Shane's old partner, used to be on the force with them. He's ranting and well, it was pretty clear why he was upset that Rick was home and Lori was still there." Maggie looked over at Michonne to see if she was anticipating the climax to the story that she was about to reveal and her wide eyes indicated she was.

"No," she breathed out, placing her elbows on the table to lean closer to Maggie.

"Apparently, they were carrying on the whole time. She swore it wasn't happening before, claimed the grief got to her and all that but, we don't know when it all started." Maggie finished her glass as she finished her story.

"Guy gets shot and wakes up two months later to his whole life changed," Rosita remembered.

"So, that's why the neighbors are talking," Michonne surmised. "Quite the story for this small town."

"Well, they mostly talk about the baby," Andrea said with a mouth full of cracker.

Michonne's eyes shot over to her friend. "Baby?"

"Turned out Lori was pregnant. That came out a little while after the first shocker. Kept the story going. They weren't sure whose it was." Maggie refilled as she spoke, feeling the need for this story to be over and the lighter banter to return.

Michonne's mouth was agape and she thought of the day Rick and she had put her bed together. The way he tensed up when she brought up the ceremony coming up to honor him. She felt awful for mentioning it so casually. Now it was obvious it was an award for being injured in the line of duty and her mention of it must have brought up the whole thing again.

Andrea noticed her friend's shock at the last part of Maggie's sentence. Still remembering her original plan, though worrying about its viability after this bombshell, she wanted to clarify. "The baby is Phillip's. They found out when it was born, just a couple weeks ago. They're gone now. Moved out of town. Carl stayed with Rick and his mom helps him a lot."

"A couple weeks ago?" Michonne asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, that part is still pretty raw." There was a long silence as they all flipped through their own memories of the incident inside their heads.

"I feel like I shouldn't have asked," Michonne finally said. "I shouldn't have invaded his privacy."

"You were gonna find out anyway," Maggie said. "I'm sure he'd rather you hear it from us. Some people aren't kind about the way they whisper."

"He's a good guy," Andrea added. "It's a shitty situation and he has had a really hard time dealing with it, but he's not as crazy as they make him out to be."

"He's not," Sasha agreed. "Whatever happened today, he just, he just needs time."

Maggie thought about her friend's bloody face at her door a couple hours ago and thought of the other occasions he had purposely put himself in danger or lost his temper since Lori left. People talked and they didn't even try to hide it. She was glad Michonne heard it from them.

"Well, that was depressing. Let's take this bottle in the living room and change the subject," Andrea said, getting up from her chair and heading to the couch. The rest of them followed.

The subject had changed and the women were happily chatting about lighter topics. Rosita's fitness class schedule and each good looking man who attended her different classes. Andrea's on again off again situation with Shane. Maggie and Glenn's apparently, sickeningly adorable relationship. But Michonne was listening half heartedly. She was mulling over the story she had heard and remembering her few interactions with Rick thus far. He was intense, private, but she never would have guessed that story. She supposed no one would have guessed hers either. She thought about what it would have been like going through what she did here in this small town. It was bad enough in a city as big as Atlanta that she felt the need to run away. She could see why her friends were worried about him and she wondered how it would be to see him again, knowing his secrets. She made the decision to be a friend to this man that her friends cared for so much. Not out of pity but, because she had a feeling she might be uniquely qualified to understand him.


	4. Chapter 4

"Thanks for taking him, mom," Rick said, staring down at the floorboards of her porch in an attempt to obstruct her view of his eye.

"You're welcome." She held Carl's hand as she looked her son up and down. "He can stay longer if you need. Or I can come back and get him tonight after you've had some time together."

"It's ok. I've got the next three days off so we'll be fine." Carl was holding a small overnight bag with his clothes and his favorite comic books inside. Just enough for the night.

"Ok," she said, hesitantly. "Rick, please be careful."

"I'm good, mom," he sighed as he hugged her with his good hand. "You don't have to worry."

"Dad, Grandma made spaghetti last night and it was so much better than yours," Carl said when they finally got in the truck. He had started fourth grade the month prior and his dad was quickly becoming more fallible in his eyes. It was typical for his age but he also knew that kids talked, hell even the teachers talked, and he worried about the things his son was overhearing at school about his mother and father.

"Well, cooking's not my specialty, Carl but there are plenty of kids who would love to have take out pizza as much as you do." Rick was confident his mother was feeding Carl a balanced diet and he was there at least 3 nights a week due to Rick's schedule, so he wasn't going to feel bad about their pizza habit.

"Yeah, I suppose. Can we go to the hardware store on the way home and get the paint for my tree house? You said we could paint it next time I stay at Grandma's for the weekend."

"Sure," Rick nodded, hoping he could find parking on the opposite side of the street as the bank to avoid running into the manager who would be on his lunch break soon.

They pulled into the only spot on the block, just up the road from the small hardware store that served the town. It was still warm there in October and they both had the sleeves rolled up on their buttoned shirts. Carl wore shorts, while Rick chose jeans and boots as he did every day he wasn't in uniform. As they entered the store a little bell rang alerting the clerk to their arrival. It also drew the attention of the only other patron in the store and Rick turned when he heard Michonne's voice call his name. Carl kept walking, having little interest in anything but the paint aisle.

"Hey!" She smiled as she met him in the center aisle, surprised to see him so soon after the conversation the night before. She felt a bit self conscious as if she was afraid he might be able to tell that she knew more about him now but she brushed it off and tried her best to push it out of her head.

"Hi," Rick replied with a grin that surprised him with its size. She was wearing the same style leggings she had been on moving day but a different color tank top and she was holding a basket of what looked like a random assortment of tools. Her hair was pulled all the way up into a bun and he noted the look was flattering on her. His eyes skimmed her collarbone for a brief moment before settling on her face. "How was girl's night?"

She looked at him, a bit puzzled, wondering again if she looked as guilty as she felt.

"I saw Maggie last night and she said she was headin' over to your place."

"Right. Um, it was good. She's fun, and Andrea was there of course. Rosita, Sasha…"

"The usual," he replied knowingly.

Her eyes went to his bandaged hand and then back up to his eye. He braced himself for the questions but she gave him the impression that she had no intention of mentioning it and he started to feel a little more confident. "It's funny running into you here," she said and then immediately realized it was probably more funny that she should be there than him since he looked like he actually knew how to use some of the stuff in this place. "I'm just stocking up on some essentials." She glanced down to her basket with a sheepish look.

"I see. We're picking up some paint. Got a tree house that needs some curb appeal updates." Rick gestured up the aisle where Carl was looking at paint swatches with a confused look on his face. "That's my son, Carl."

Michonne followed his gaze and landed on a boy around 10 years old who was a miniature version of his father. His hair was straight with no hint of the curls that invaded Rick's and he lacked his father's bow-legged, cowboy stance but, other than that, they were a match. "I could definitely have picked him out of a line up. He looks just like you," she smiled warmly.

"Well, I'm sure he'd thank you for the compliment," Rick joked, "if he wasn't being so rude and ignoring us. Carl, come here," he called down the aisle to him.

Carl came wandering back to his father, still staring down at the color samples he had picked up. In one hand he held a strip of ascending blues, in the other a collection of reds and oranges. When he looked up, his long hair fell into his face covering one of his eyes completely.

"This is Michonne. She is a friend of Andrea and Maggie's," Rick introduced her to the boy without taking his eyes off of her face. "This is Carl."

"Hi," Carl said, showing as much interest in the introduction as he could muster while contemplating the choices he held.

"Hi, Carl. Your dad said you were picking out tree house colors." She looked over at his handful of swatches.

"Yeah, but there's like a million and one shades of blue and a million and two shades of red." He looked utterly exasperated by the scenario.

"Are those the only colors you want to choose between?" she asked, slowly meandering towards the rack where the rest of the colors were displayed.

Rick watched them go ahead of him thankful that she seemed interested in this task as he was just going to suggest they paint it white and pull a can off the shelf.

"I honestly hadn't thought about it, but it kinda seems like I should have."

She set her basket down on the floor beside them and pulled out a couple more swatches, a yellow and a green. "Lots of choices, that's for sure."

"So, where do I start? Girls are better at this than guys, right?"

She laughed out loud. "Well, not always, but I will help you if you want. What color is your house? They should compliment each other."

"It's not at my house, we don't have enough trees," he explained. "It's at my grandparent's house, it's white.

'Perfect', Rick thought. Back to pulling a can off the shelf and they wouldn't have to wait for the guy to mix it.

"Well, that opens up a world of possibilities!" she exclaimed. "Let's start with your favorite color and then we can narrow down the shades. "Oh, and we'll need a coordinating trim color. Any trim on your grandparents house?"

Carl's eyes lit up at the idea of having actual help with this. He figured his dad was just going to leave it to him. Rick was glad as well, having no desire to dive into this rabbit hole but, he didn't want to take advantage. "We didn't mean to interrupt your shopping," he said looking down at her basket again. "Looks like you're starting from scratch here."

"Yeah, I used to have a super in my building who would fix whatever was broken. Now, I figure I should probably be prepared. I don't really know what I'm doing. I printed off a list online of the top things to put in your first tool box." She pulled a folded, wrinkled piece of paper out of the strap of her tank top as Rick tried not to notice the secret hiding place.

He took the paper, scanning the list from a website called , chuckling as he read all 23 items.

"What?" she asked, noting the way his eyes turned just a little lighter when he smiled. "No good?"

"Well, these girls must have stock in a tool company. You don't need half of this stuff on a just in case basis." He pulled a pen out of his back pocket, setting the paper down on a shelf nearby and started putting dashes next to the things he thought she would actually be able to use. She stood on her tip toes, looking over his shoulder with a little frown on her face. He had cut her list in half but she still didn't know what some of the stuff was. He looked up and noticed her confused look. "Hey, I have an idea. How about you two talk color theory and I'll grab the stuff on your list for you."

"Really?" She smiled, looking very relieved. "That would be great. Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Not as much as my mother will appreciate a nice looking tree house in her backyard." He smiled back. "I'll be right back." He headed off to the other side of the store to begin, leaving Carl and Michonne to their project.

"So how do you know my dad?" Carl asked, taking another swatch from Michonne as she fingered through them to find her top choices.

"My friend Andrea knows him and I work with Maggie. I met him a few times because of them. I actually just moved here so I really only know Andrea's friends." She plucked another blue out of the rack and took the ones Carl was holding, laying them all out on the table in front of the display.

"I know Andrea. She's friends with Shane," Carl replied.

"Yes, she is." Michonne smirked a bit at the term friend in that scenario.

"Well, now you know me too, so your circle is getting bigger." Carl smiled at his comment and his blue eyes matched Rick's exactly.

"This is true. Guess I'm lucky I ran into your dad today." She smiled, genuinely touched at the boy's considerate words. She held up three of the swatches that had made the final round and folded them over to isolate the shade she wanted him to look at. "Ok, blue is a good choice but now you have to decide; "Ocean Liner", "Quiet Cove" or "Sky Delight." She held the three finalists in a fan for him to see.

"Who comes up with these names?" he asked, seriously baffled that there were this many blues. "I think I like 'Quiet Cove'. Sounds peaceful, like a retreat. That's what a tree house should be, right?"

"Yes! Although, I don't think you are suppose to choose based on the name of the color," she laughed.

"Hey, they call it that for a reason," he surmised.

"Ok, then. Here ya go." She handed him the swatch. "This really needs a white trim, though. Grab a quart of that one and a gallon of that one there." She pointed at the cans lined on the shelf beside them and Carl complied.

"Exterior eggshell," he read. "I have no idea what that means but, I trust you."

They walked around the corner and found Rick putting two packages of nails into Michonne's basket. "Finished?" he asked as he eyed the two cans Carl balanced in his arms.

"Yup, 'Quiet Cove' in an eggshell exterior," Carl answered, expertly.

Rick cocked his head to the side, squinting at his son as if he didn't recognize him and Michonne laughed.

"Don't forget the ultra white trim," she reminded.

"Right," he remembered as he turned the quart around, reading the label again.

Rick nodded, glad again that he had gotten a pass on that task. "Here are your tools," he said as he handed the basket back to her and began sorting a few of them neatly so she could see them all.

"I think I might recognize most of these," she smiled, her brown eyes sparkling.

Rick held her gaze for a moment, mirroring her smile when he saw that he had been of help to her. "If you find you need something that's not there, you've got a few friends now who can help you out."

Rick's intense stare made her feel like they weren't quite strangers at all. She liked the sound of having friends in this new place. Running into Rick and Carl had reminded her that, though this was a new place, she could make a home here.

"Dad, I'm going to get the guy to mix this," Carl said over his shoulder as he turned toward the counter. "Thanks again, Michonne!"

Once the paint was mixed and Michonne had purchased her new tools, Rick held the door as she and Carl exited the store into the bright sunny afternoon and he reached for her shopping bag , offering to carry it for her. They walked slowly in the direction of their vehicles, Carl slightly ahead, carrying the paint. "Is this your weekend off?" she asked Rick casually. She was planning to go out with Andrea and Shane that night and she wondered if she would see him.

"It is," he said, looking toward Carl. "Long weekend, but Daryl and I do four on, three off every week so it's no different." She nodded in response, remembering it was Columbus Day weekend. "Did you start with Deana yet?"

Michonne looked at him with an eyebrow raised and her mouth turned up in a slight smile. "Deana?"

"Mayor Monroe," he chuckled. "She was an Assistant D.A. when I was a rookie. She was just Deana then."

"I see, well I start Tuesday, after the holiday." It was Rick's turn to nod. "Andrea's actually trying to talk me into throwing something together Monday. A bbq or something. I guess Shane was going to but Andrea suggested combining at my house, with the lake and all."

"That was nice of her to offer you up," he laughed, not surprised at all at their friend's forwardness.

"She wants to swim."

"Who swims in October?" he scoffed, slowing his walk as he approached his SUV.

"It's supposed to be in the eighties!" she exclaimed, playfully nudging him with her elbow.

"I guess it is," he chuckled again. "Well, Carl and me were planning on going to whatever Shane was throwing so, I guess if Andrea says so, we'll see you Monday." His eyes were holding hers again and she was beginning to like the way that felt. For all she had found out about him recently, he seemed confident at this moment, like someone you could be safe with. She wondered if he knew he gave off that impression.

"Perfect," she grinned, releasing his gaze. "Carl, I had better get to see some pictures when that is done," she waived to him through the truck window as he had already climbed in while they were talking.

"Of course! Thanks again, Michonne," the boy waved.

Rick handed back her bag of tools and smiled again. "See you soon."

"See you." she called behind her as she continued down the street to her car.


	5. Chapter 5

"This thing at Michonne's now?" Daryl asked, throwing a baseball back to Carl. He was moving a bit slowly this early on a Sunday. They had plans to eat and watch some football and Daryl figured he could nurse a hangover at Rick's house just as well as he could his own, so he had headed over once he woke up and showered.

"Maggie confirmed," Rick said as he watched. Daryl had replaced Rick in the game after the ball smacking into his bandaged hand inside his glove had proved a little too painful.

"Rosita gonna be there?" he asked, not even attempting to hide his interest in the answer.

"I didn't get the full guest list but I can't imagine she wouldn't be."

Daryl grunted a response and lifted his arm to throw again.

"Hold on, Uncle Daryl. I'm going to get a hat. It's too bright out here." Carl threw his glove and ball down and took off inside.

Daryl tossed the ball up into the air instead and caught it above his head before joining Rick on the back steps of Rick's house. The small yard had just enough grass to practice ground balls, the rest landscaped neatly with a stone path winding up to a patio at the base of the stairs. Rick and Shane had laid the stone themselves six years ago and it was holding up as good as could be expected. A charcoal grill sat on the edge where Rick did most of his cooking now that it was just he and Carl. The flower beds that Lori had planted along the fence were looking dry and sad in the heat of the Indian Summer they were experiencing. Sometimes, Rick would let them get as near to death as possible before reviving them with the garden hose. They were Lori's to tend to and she had abandoned them. Why should he save them?, he thought.

"Alright. You drive," Daryl stated, knowing his friend would have Carl with him so most likely wouldn't be drinking as much as he would.

Rick nodded.

"How's the hand?" He gestured towards Rick's bandage but both men knew he was actually checking in on Rick's mental state.

"It'll be fine by Tuesday."

"Yeah," he replied, tossing the ball again as if to remind Rick that the injury was keeping him from playing with his son right now. The two men had the ability to speak without speaking and Rick was picking up his point but Daryl felt like this conversation needed to be verbalized. He looked back over his shoulder to make sure Carl was still in the house. "It rage or lack of caring that makes you do something like that?"

Rick looked over at his friend, surprised to hear the question he had been trying to answer coming out of Daryl's mouth.

"I don't know," he said, honestly. "I was mad I guess. Meryl's a son of a bitch, but I didn't particularly care what happened either. To me or him." He paused to stretch his legs out on the step in front of him and look again for Carl. When he didn't see him he continued. "It's like a tension in me that's always there and it keeps twisting and then something comes along to make it snap and it feels good."

Daryl nodded silently, looking at the ground. He wasn't sure which answer he was hoping to get from the question but this didn't feel like a good one.

"You see how they look at me, Daryl. Used to be they just all wanted to say how sorry they were, pitying me. Like my life was a God damned movie they all watched and it made them feel sad. Now, since the baby was born and they all know the truth, it's like they're all just waiting for me to lose it. I guess they're right cause I feel like I have been. Losing it."

"Nah, man. You ain't losing it." Daryl said, quietly, not wanting to interrupt what felt like the first real words Rick had spoken about this thing since it happened.

"That test, ya know, that was it. Final nail in the coffin. Baby's his, she's his. Truth is, we probably didn't have anything to hang onto anyway. She hadn't looked at me for a long time, 'cept when I was in the hospital. But, if it had been mine," he paused, looking up at the bright sky to steady his voice, "there would have been that."

…

The next day proved true to the weatherman's prediction of unseasonably warm temperatures. Small beads of sweat formed on Rick's forehead as he waited in Daryl's driveway for the man to appear. He dabbed at them with the cuff of his cotton shirt which he was already thinking about shedding for the plain, black t shirt he wore under it. After his friend had left the night before and Carl had gone to bed, he sat at his kitchen table and had a long conversation with a bottle of scotch. He was feeling the impression it had made on him now as the hot sun beat down on his forehead and the humid air invaded his lungs.

Daryl finally strolled down the front steps of his house, 9 minutes later, carrying a large cooler with a couple of grocery bags on top.

"What's all that?" Rick called out the window as he watched Daryl secure his wares in the back of the SUV, next to the bags Rick had packed. They had both received assignments through Glenn, from Maggie, on who was supposed to bring what but, Daryl's packages looked like they held more than the chips and dips the bachelor was strategically assigned.

"Meat," Daryl grunted as he jumped up into the truck, turning back to give Carl a high five.

"Meat?" Rick raised his eyebrows, knowing full well he and Shane were assigned burgers and chicken.

"Venison," Daryl grunted as he tapped the dashboard twice with his knuckles indicating for Rick to drive.

"What the hell is venison?" Carl called from the back seat causing both men to swing around and stare at him. "I mean heck," he quickly retracted.

"Deer," Daryl replied with a look that Rick took as a judgement on his parenting skills that his son did not recognize the term.

"That should be a hit," Rick muttered to himself as Daryl ignored him and went to work changing the radio station.

About fifteen minutes later, they pulled down the long, dirt road that led to a series of cottage style homes lining the north shore of the lake and Carl removed the ear buds he had been listening to, to take in the scene. "This is way better than going to Shane's," he said excitedly.

"Yeah, well, don't tell him that," Rick replied, putting the truck in park when he had pulled into Michonne's driveway. He recognized Shane's pickup and Andrea's coupe, indicating they had taken separate cars. He wondered how that boded for the rest of the afternoon since they usually spent weekend nights pretending they weren't going home with each other then showing up together to any early morning event that might involve them both.

Maggie and Glenn pulled in right behind them and they walked around the house toward the lake together after greeting each other and picking up their bags from the back of the cars.

Andrea looked more like July than October as she rushed up to meet them in bare feet and a light, cotton dress that covered a bathing suit underneath. Rick was glad he had put Carl's suit in the truck. "Hi, guys. What a day!" she exclaimed as she took the bag Rick was holding after hugging her hello to Maggie. "Carl, it's so good to see you again! Want a soda?"

The boy looked at his dad and after earning a nod, followed Andrea and Maggie into the house with a slam of the screen door.

"It is hotter than a house on fire in hell." A loud, thickly accented voice boomed from behind them and they all turned to see Abraham coming around the corner, his wife following behind him, almost obscured by his large frame. Daryl greeted him with a slap on the back and Rick and Glenn went to hug Francine and greet his two boys who were pulling up the rear, carrying their food contributions.

"I'm really glad to see you, Rick," Francine said to him as Glenn stepped away to turn toward her sons with matching high fives.

He bent at the waist to reach her embrace. The woman was tiny and the difference in build between her and Abraham was the subject of more than a few off-color talks he had heard between Shane and her husband. He felt a little flush in his cheeks at the thought. "It's good to see you, too. Tim and Isaac are growing like weeds."

"You know it. They were very excited to hear that Carl was still going to be coming around." She winced slightly at Rick's expression and the inference that she had inadvertently made.

Truth was it was never a question whether Carl would go with Lori instead of staying with him. She hadn't suggested she wanted it that way and they both knew he wouldn't have allowed it, not even if he was still asleep in that hospital bed. Nothing would have taken that boy from him. As awkward as their relationship had become since Lori left, he knew Carl was old enough to know where he belonged and it wasn't with Lori and Phillip. "Well, he's excited too," he said, brushing off her slip up. "He hasn't seen them since the Fourth."

Carl had returned at this point and, without stopping to greet anyone else, had taken off with Abraham's kids to throw a frisbee that had been laying on the ground close to the water's edge. Maggie and Andrea returned and handed Glenn, Daryl and Rick each a beer, Abraham having come in with one already open, and they were chatting with Francine while the men stared out at the boys playing.

It had been at least fifteen minutes since they had arrived and Rick was starting to wonder where Michonne was, seeing as this was her house. It seemed Andrea was playing hostess at the moment. He was also wondering where Shane was and, remembering the two cars he first saw in the driveway, he briefly entertained the thought that maybe they were in the house having a private conversation that Andrea wouldn't have wanted to hear. He shook the thought away and then dismissed the feeling that he might have actually cared if that were the case.

Daryl, forever reading his mind without even knowing it, turned to Andrea just then and asked, "Where's Michonne? Ain't this her house you're throwing this party at?"

" _We_ are throwing this party, Daryl," she said, taking his comment in stride. "She's making a batch of Margaritas in the kitchen." An evil little grin took over her face and she turned to Rick. "Grimes, I need another drink, wanna go see if she's done and bring me one?"

Rick squinted an eye at her, wondering when he became the person responsible for getting her a drink since that was usually Shane's job, but he didn't mind getting out of the sun for a few minutes, so he complied. Grabbing her glass roughly to make sure she didn't think he was happy to do it, he climbed the steps to the back door.

"That was subtle," Maggie whispered sarcastically to Glenn.

"If this is going to go on all day, he's not going to like that." Glenn whispered back. They both shot Andrea a look and saw that Daryl was doing the same.

"Michonne?" Rick called as he entered her house, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey!" she smiled genuinely when he came around the corner into the kitchen where she stood, mixing a large pitcher of what must have been the Margaritas.

He smiled back, glad to see Shane was nowhere in sight. "Andrea wanted another drink and I apparently drew the short straw," he joked, holding up her empty glass. Michonne laughed heartily at the thought of her friend barking out orders to any male within hearing distance. Rick came to rest against the counter she was working at, setting the glass down behind him. "Thanks for having us. You need any help?"

She looked him up and down briefly, considering his offer. Having only seen him drinking whiskey straight and some really dark beer, she immediately judged that he had probably never tasted a Margarita, nevermind made one. She politely declined. "You really are dressed for summer," she said sarcastically, taking in his dark jeans and boots, once again.

"It's October," he reminded her with a smirk. She was wearing cut off shorts like Maggie but paired with a paper thin grey t-shirt that clearly showed she too was wearing a bathing suit underneath.

"And it would be rude to deny the gift of good weather that the universe is giving us right now." She smiled, handing him a stack of red plastic cups as she finished mixing the pitcher contents.

"Point taken."

As they stood smiling at her ribbing, Shane came through the front door carrying a couple more grocery bags to add to the growing pile on the kitchen island. They were definitely going to have enough food. "Hey, brother," he greeted, shaking Rick's hand and slapping him on the shoulder.

"Where are you coming from?" Rick asked. "I saw your truck when we pulled in."

"Went down to the corner store with Tara to get some gas for the grill." He made a face at Michonne that Rick immediately recognized as a judgement of her choice of a gas versus charcoal burning grill.

She shrugged in response, handing him a few grilling tools out of the drawer she was standing in front of. He smiled and took them from her, heading out the door Rick had just come in through. Rick felt slightly ridiculous and slightly guilty for allowing himself to assume Shane had been in here hitting on Michonne with Andrea right outside. "What can I carry?" he asked, still wanting to be of help.

"Here." She handed him a stack of brightly colored napkins to go with the cups he was already in charge of. "Don't forget Andrea's glass." She shined a bright smile at him as she walked toward the door, holding it open behind her with her foot until he could grab it on his way to follow her.

Tara put her first out toward Rick when she saw him coming and he expertly bumped it with his. He had gotten used to her greeting, though, he still felt a little old to be using it. Sasha had arrived while they were inside and she had brought her brother, Tyreese, who used to hang around with all of them for years, until he got married and moved to his wife Karin's home town, an hour away. She was here too, with Karin's daughter Lizzie whom Sasha was introducing to Rick and Abraham's boys. They were a few years older than her but the group of kids was small so they appreciated the addition. None of them, besides Sasha, had seen Karin since their wedding and the women were happily catching up.

Rick returned to Daryl and Glenn once he had put the cups and napkins on the table where Michonne had directed him. She had kindly filled Andrea's glass back up and taken it to her for him, giving him one more glimpse of her smile before they parted. Rick was tossing the picture around in his head while the other men talked. He was feeling good today, other than the humidity that was currently pulling the sweat from his back through his t shirt. He enjoyed being social and it wasn't that he wanted to avoid his friends lately, it was the acquaintances and neighbors he wanted to avoid. Here, having known almost all of these people in what he considered his previous life, he felt comfortable and almost like himself. Michonne was the only new addition but it seemed like he might have been given a pass on explaining his past to her. He wasn't sure why, but he would take it.

"Nice view," Daryl said, snapping Rick out of his thoughts. He looked out toward the lake but realized his friend's eyes were on Rosita who was dancing down the walkway, having just arrived. She was wearing a full length skirt with a tight tank top that revealed a few inches of her lower abs. Daryl was not even trying to hide his gaze. Glenn laughed out loud and Rick smiled wondering when the hell that was just going to happen. Rosita wasn't one of the core group. She and Tara were usually around only on the big gatherings, but she was around enough to have a standing date to flirt with Daryl whenever they were together. He remembered Lori had never liked the woman. Rick found her to be harmless, if not a little loud at parties, and he knew Daryl was into her so he was friendly. Lori didn't extend the same affection for Daryl's sake. She always found something to say about what the woman was wearing or the off color language she used from time to time. He found himself feeling glad to not be subjected to gossip from his wife at this event and he pondered what that meant.

…

Michonne sat in one of the long lounge chairs at the edge of the water, Maggie beside her in the matching one, watching the kids and Glenn toss the frisbee around for what must have been an hour now. Glenn, who at least had the good sense to wear shorts, unlike the rest of the men in attendance, was sweating profusely under the mid afternoon blaze. Michonne was glad to let Shane take on the grilling duties and she was also taking in the conversation between him and Abraham that looked friendly, yet competitive.

"Couldn't have asked for a better day," Sasha sighed, as she joined the two ladies, taking a seat on the edge of Maggie's chair, pulling one leg underneath her.

"I'm so glad Tyreese and Karin could come!" Maggie exclaimed, looking up at where Sasha's brother stood with Daryl, Rick and Tara. They all had wide grins and looked glad to be catching up.

"Me too. Hey, thanks for hosting all of us," Sasha said, turning to Michonne.

"Of course! It feels good to have friends to host. I was sure I would be stuck here by myself every weekend until Andrea and Shane broke up again." All of them snickered, knowing it had happened before and was bound to happen again.

"No one spends weekends alone when they live on the lake," Maggie said with a wink.

"Well, you all can use me for the lake anytime."

"Never," her new friend said sincerely. "It must be hard moving somewhere new by yourself. We're really glad to have you around."

"Well, it's a little intimidating. Living alone, in this rural town. Forces you to rely on your own independance." Michonne thought of all the things she used to be able to pay someone to do for her that would be way too much of an inconvenience to hire out here. "I ran into Rick a couple days ago at the hardware store and he kindly helped me pick out a few tools just to keep on hand in this place. That was a bit humbling." She took a sip of her cocktail and looked up to see both of her friends had tight grins across their faces. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing, it's just, I bet he didn't mind. He likes being helpful." Sasha laughed as Maggie tried to talk her way out of the look that still hung on her face.

"Did Andrea send you to the hardware store?" Sasha was full on giggling now with Maggie trying to shush her.

"No…What's going on here?" Michonne was utterly confused.

"You know Andrea has a plan for you two."

"Sasha!" Maggie hit her friend on the arm. "I told you that in confidence."

"Well, I didn't know it was going to be so obvious. How am I supposed to play like I don't know."

"You guys are terrible. The man who is very recently not married anymore? I didn't even think Andrea liked him." Michonne was unsure which path to take to get her out of this conversation the quickest.

"Of course she does," Maggie replied. "She's just never been one to cut anyone any slack. And it's been over half a year. Listen, Rick doesn't know about this plan and you weren't supposed to either. Dixon told her to forget it and she probably has so let's not make a thing about it. Rick is a good guy, a good friend. You'll be glad to have him as one. Let's leave it at that." She had switched into her professional voice and was trying her best to spin the situation in a more favorable light. As much as she wasn't on board with Andrea's plan to sneakily push them together, she wasn't against the idea of it happening on it's own. Andrea had made a point about their compatibility, even if her plan wasn't sound.

Sasha's smirk faded and she nodded at Maggie's speech. Michonne followed, taking another, long sip of her drink.

"He is fine, though," Sasha let slip after a moment, earning her one more hit on the arm from Maggie and a chuckle from Michonne.

An hour later everyone was sufficiently stuffed and found themselves settled into smaller groups again, catching up and enjoying each other's company. Maggie and Glenn were off by themselves, standing at the end of the short dock, overlooking the water, while Andrea and Shane were standing at the makeshift bar discussing the supply. Rick stood with Abraham and Francine chatting about the beginning of their son's school years. Carl and Tim were both in the fourth grade and Isaac was going into Junior High. Tyreese and Karin were listening on. Their daughter was only a year younger than Carl but the difference was striking as she still seemed like a little girl.

Rick's eyes fell on the picnic table to his far left where Daryl was sitting, perched on the top with his legs on the bench. Rosita and Sasha were both laughing at something he said and Rick smiled at the thought of the single members of the group huddled together in camaraderie. He almost laughed until it hit him that this year he was standing with the wrong crowd.

It was always he and Lori rounding out the married couples clique at these things. But this year he was here alone. Looking around at his friends he realized that, if she had been there, the two of them wouldn't have been smiling like Abraham and Francine, or quietly holding hands like Tyreese and Karin. She would probably be upset with him for something or forcefully taking the opposite position on whatever he had been discussing. He sighed, pushing his hand through his hair, looking around for Carl. He suddenly felt like maybe it was time to start packing up.

"Hey, wanna be my partner?" He swung around at the sound of Michonne's voice over his shoulder, giving her a confused look once he met her face. "Beer pong."

"Aren't we a little old for that?" he grinned.

"Well, Tara and Andrea challenged me and I wasn't going to say 'no, I'm too old to play that', that would have been rude." She gave him a devilish smile that hinted of her many margaritas. She knew after the conversation with Sasha and Maggie she would be inviting looks by asking him but Maggie was nowhere to be found and he was next in the line of people there whom she had met more than twice.

"I'm driving," he started.

"Then don't lose," she said seriously, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her own eyebrows.

Rick looked at his watch. 2pm. If he only played one game and didn't lose, he would be fine by the time Daryl and he had originally planned on calling it a night. "Against Tara and Andrea?" he taunted. "I'm not too worried." He excused himself from the conversation he was listening to and followed her over to the long table that Andrea was clearing off for the game. Tara expertly set up two pyramids of plastic cups, one on either end.

"I'm not sure that's fair," Tara called across the table when Rick took his place next to Michonne.

"What?" she replied.

"Inviting a boy to play."

Rick laughed, "Well, lucky for you all the boys are playing frisbee."

"Okay, okay. Volley for first?"

"This ain't a frat party, Tara. Let's not get drunk before we play. You go first."

"Shoulda figured Grimes would want to police this thing. Ok, Deputy," Andrea held her hands up in mock surrender, "We'll take it."

"I hope you're good at this, cause I suck," Michonne whispered, earning a troubled look from Rick.

Andrea and Tara both missed and Rick caught the last ball, handing it to Michonne, keeping the other for himself. "Ladies first."

She reached back, standing on her tiptoes and tossed the ball. It sunk easily into one of Tara's cups. "Scared of the boy, huh?" Michonne smiled, tossing her dreads over her shoulder. Rick followed her, sinking a matching shot into one of Andrea's cups. He assumed Michonne would do enough trash talking for the both of them so he just sipped his beer.

The next two rounds went exactly the same. Two misses, two perfect shots. "I thought you said you sucked." Rick asked, leaning into her ear. She shrugged innocently. The entire game took about ten minutes with Rick only having to drink one cup, so he agreed to play another round.

Glenn and Maggie replaced Tara and Andrea on the other side and Michonne and Rick continued to battle next to each other to maintain their streak. When they had successfully taken out the younger couple, Michonne decided to take a break, remembering she would be starting a new job in the morning. She had been enjoying Rick's company and didn't want to stop so she suggested they go and find Carl by the water.

"Having fun?" she asked, when they came upon the boy throwing rocks into the water.

"Yeah, Tim and Isaac went to get some dessert."

"And you didn't want to join them?" Rick questioned.

"I'm not really a sweets type of person," he said seriously, causing his father to shake his head at his quirk.

Michonne gasped out loud. "That's heresy," she exclaimed

"What does that mean?" Carl squinted, looking between her and Rick for an explanation.

"It means she doesn't like you anymore," Rick chuckled.

"Stop," Michonne said, playfully pushing his arm. "I've just never met a kid who didn't like sweets. That's why me and kids usually get along so well." Carl raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you even try the cookies? I bought them from the bakery in town."

"Morgan's wife?" Rick asked.

Michonne shrugged as she didn't have a clue who was who in this town yet. "The only one downtown."

"Well, if Carol made them I will probably like them. But, I'm pretty full on that deer meat that Daryl brought."

"That's what you decided to have?" Rick's face was scrunched up at the thought.

"He said meat tastes better fresh from the woods instead of from the grocery store."

"You know he had to kill Bambi to get that, right?"

"Rick!" Michonne said, her mouth hanging open but her eyes still smiling. Carl looked like he was weighing the pros and cons of Daryl's contribution. They weren't privy to his final decision as he just shrugged his shoulders and kept throwing his pile of rocks.

"So, I assume you're not swimming," Michonne gestured to Rick's outfit. "Carl?" He stopped his game and looked up at his dad.

"Your suit's in your bag," Rick relented. "We have to head out in two hours so be dry before you get back in my truck."

Carl ran all the way into the house, catching the other kids on his way up the steps. All four of them disappearing into Michonne's house to change.

A few minutes later the four kids plus Andrea, Tara, Michonne and Glenn were in the water. Andrea was floating on an inner tube, holding onto the dock where Maggie sat and the rest of them were splashing each other in what looked like some loosely organized game. Shane and Abraham were standing at the edge of the water refereeing.

Rick had taken a seat next to Daryl, still sitting on the picnic table. "You going home with Rosita, or am I driving you back?" he teased.

"Funny."

Tyreese made his way over to the table, carrying a beer and another plate of food and the two men shifted over so he could take a seat on the bench near their feet. Daryl set one of his legs onto the ground in anticipation of the weight shift, wanting to avoid flipping the table. Tyreese was a giant of a man but he was the most gentle of them all. They couldn't remember a time when he had been angry about anything. His temper was non existent and Rick sometimes wondered what it was like to live that way, never having to hold yourself back or talk yourself down. He thought of the man sometimes, when he was in the thick of a rage, like he had been so many times since it all happened, trying to channel his quiet nature.

"Looks like you're pretty well healed up," Tyreese gestured to Rick, while picking at the plate he had arrived with. "You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you." He had made a point to visit a couple times while Rick was in the hospital and his thoughtfulness hadn't gone unnoticed. All of his friends had been by his side while he was recovering and then after.

"I am. Been back at work for a few months now." Rick tipped his cup, that now held water, up to his mouth and his still bandaged, left hand caught Tyreese's eye. He started to say something but Daryl gave him a small shake of the head behind Rick's shoulder so he pivoted.

"Good to hear. This sure is a great place. Better than cramming into Shane's small yard. Was nice of your girlfriend to have us."

Both Daryl and Rick spun around, staring at Tyrese. "Michonne?" Rick questioned.

"Yeah, she seems really nice. I'm glad for …"

"Michonne's not my girlfriend." Rick interrupted with a nervous laugh. He was suddenly feeling self conscious that his friend would think that, since the last time they were all together Rick was married.

"Oh, I just thought, Karin said you two must be together. The way you were talking before."

Daryl stretched his arms out behind him and rested on them, watching the awkward conversation unfold. Rick seemed shaken for some reason. Tyreese, embarrassed. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid when he had told Andrea to kill any plan she may have. He wondered if she had a hand in it or if Rick and Michonne really were giving off that impression. He certainly hadn't thought it but, he was a lot closer to Rick than the rest. He'd be able to tell if Rick was thinking that way. He glanced down to the water where Michonne was standing, waist deep, chatting with Andrea. She looked innocent enough, at the moment.

"I didn't mean to imply anything," Tyreese was saying. "I was happy for you but, looks like you're doing good either way."

Rick tried to brush it off, hoping his reaction hadn't made his friend feel bad. He was just taken aback that his friends thought he was moving on so quickly. He started to wonder if they might have been able to see that more time had passed since the end of his marriage than just their divorce date. Lori certainly would agree, given the age of her daughter.

The sun was starting to go down and many of the guests had already said their goodbyes. Tyreese and Karin had a long trip home and Sasha had to be on her shift by 5am, so they left first, followed by Rosita who once again left alone with Daryl pretending he didn't wish that was not the case. Maggie and Glenn were helping clean up the tables outside and Michonne was inside straightening the kitchen. Rick could see her through the window at the sink where she had turned on a light, due to the approaching nightfall. Her hair was in a towel from her time in the lake and she had put her t-shirt back on over her bathing suit, adding a sweatshirt since the temperature was beginning to reveal the true time of year. Rick walked up the steps, opening the back door to join her, wanting to help clean up before he left. "So, day one with Deana tomorrow?" he started as he came into the small room.

"Yup," she smiled, handing him a cookie from the boxes she was consolidating. "Back to the grindstone."

"You must be excited," he pondered in between bites. "How does one go from beer pong champion to Special Counsel to the Mayor overnight?" His grin grew as she laughed at his joke.

"I am a woman of many talents, Rick," she twirled away from him to place a plate wrapped in plastic wrap in the fridge. His eyes landed on the smooth, backs of her thighs as she bent to find room for the leftovers. Tyreese's comment rang in his head and he quickly looked away, settling his gaze out the window.

"What can I do to help?" he asked. "With cleanup, not with Deanna. You're on your own there." he joked.

"You can take this plate of leftover venison and feed it to Carl," she smiled, handing him the rest of the meat.

"I wouldn't want Daryl's feelings to be hurt," he smiled, making no attempt at taking the plate from her.

She pushed it into his chest playfully until he reached for it. "Then don't tell him, but it's not staying here."

They were both laughing when Daryl and Carl came into the house from the front door. "Rick, you ready?" Daryl grunted looking back and forth between his partner and Michonne.

"Thanks so much for having us, Michonne. I had a lot of fun." Carl said. Rick smiled at his son's manners and put an arm around him.

"You're very welcome. We may not get another swimming day for a while but you're more than welcome to visit whenever you want."

"Thanks!"

"It was good of 'ya to host, thanks," Daryl said. He gave her a one armed hug and turned to Carl, pulling him out from under Rick's arm heading for the door.

"Well, good luck tomorrow," Rick said when they were alone again. "Tell Deana I said 'hi'."

"I get the feeling I shouldn't," she smiled. Something about his facial expression made her think that was a bad idea.

"Maybe not." His eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled and he looked down at the floor then back up at her face. "I'll see you around, Michonne."

"Bye." She watched him walk out the door laughing to herself. Rick Grimes could be adorable, she thought. She remembered the first night she had met him when he sat brooding over a glass of whiskey looking every bit the cocky cop and she tried to reconcile that with the playfulness she had just witnessed. She was intrigued by this man and she thought Maggie's words would ring true; she would be glad to have him as a friend.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N Thanks for the reviews so far! I am having so much fun posting this and hearing your comments! Keep 'em coming.

...

"It's too damn cold. Shut the window," Daryl snarled at Rick as he climbed into their cruiser.

"Quit smoking every time we stop and I won't have to air the place out. The Sheriff will have your hide if he inspects this car on the fly."

"I'll tell him you got a new habit. Besides, whata ya think he's gonna say about what you done to the fine upholstery?" Daryl gestured to the red stains that littered Rick's seat from his bloodied hand the month prior.

"Alright, we heading the usual route today, or you wanna shake it up and run it backwards?" It had been an usually slow month patrolling now that the heat that had blessed the early fall had given way to a more seasonable November. The cold slowed down people's ambition, even criminals. Truth was, since Rick taking a bullet, neither one of them was complaining about the lack of action. Slow was fine if it meant going home at the end of your shift.

Daryl shrugged an indifferent response while flipping through his phone and Rick decided to start down their normal path. Driving west onto the main drag into town, they slowed as they started to encounter more pedestrians the closer they got to the business district. "Tyreese texted me, said he's coming in for Thanksgiving. Wants to get everyone together that weekend and go out."

"Yeah?" Rick asked, turning the wheel toward the bank and pharmacy where they regularly patrolled.

"You'll be at your mom's anyway, right? Carl can stay there for the night and you can come."

"Should be fine. We'll be over at Hershel's but he can still stay with my mom. We're doing overnights the week before anyway so I won't be sleepin'"

"I'll put Maggie on the planning," Daryl said, typing away on his phone. "Want me to make sure she invites your girlfriend? Wouldn't want to disappoint Karin."

Rick looked over at Daryl who wore a smirk that was barely visible on his downturned face. "You too?"

"Hey, I wasn't sayin nothin when Tyreese brought it up but y'all been hanging out a lot since then."

"She's my friend and she's new here. We're the only ones she knows."

"Been here a few months now. She had to have found someone better to hang out with than you."

"Yeah, Carl. They're the ones hanging out. I'm just supervising." Rick slowed to let an elderly woman pass ahead of them in the crosswalk.

"Mmmhmm," Daryl mumbled, then after a moment his tone turned a little more serious. "It ain't a bad thing,"

"It ain't a thing," Rick replied curtly, indicating he was done talking about it. Daryl nodded.

…

"Oooh!" Maggie exclaimed, looking at her phone.

"What?" Michonne asked, taking a bite of her salad at her desk while her friend lounged in the chair opposite her. They were having a working lunch but doing more lunching than working.

"Dixon said Tyreese is coming in for Thanksgiving and I should plan a night out."

"He's not into party planning?" Michonne joked, having sized Daryl up on day one. She was pretty sure he just showed up to things like this.

"Yeah, not his thing. Are you around? You leaving town?"

"Nowhere else to be."

"What!? Where's your family live?"

"My dad's in Virginia and my brother is going to his wife's parent's. I'll see them both on Christmas so I'm not gonna book a flight two months in a row."

Maggie looked aghast. "And when was this going to come up?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where are you planning to eat on Thanksgiving?" She had straightened in her chair now, obviously very serious about the matter at hand.

"Turkey sandwiches by the lake?" she joked. "I hadn't thought about it." Michonne finished her salad and tossed her to-go container in the trash.

"You're coming to my house. And you're coming out Friday night."

"Yeah, ok," she replied with her hands up in mock surrender.

"Good. It's settled. It's not just family; Rick will be there and Carl." Maggie picked up her lunch container and started for the door.

"Maggie," she called before the other woman could leave. "Thanks." Michonne did appreciate the invitation. She wasn't overly sad about spending the holiday alone, she had done it before but, it would be nice to spend it with friends.

…

"Rick," Deana greeted him with a fond yet professional hug, her tiny frame almost disappearing in his embrace.

"Ma'am," he returned, catching Michonne giving him a raised eyebrow at his formality. He shrugged at her once Deanna had turned away.

Michonne was wearing a black blazer and skirt with a white blouse underneath and Rick was trying to decide if he preferred this look or the athletic wear she was usually in on the weekend.

"I'm meeting with the Sheriff this afternoon. This is Michonne. She replaced Olivia, though her role is a little different. We made the position just for her." Deana beamed at her new hire, obviously already impressed.

"We actually know each other," Rick said causing Deana to smile and look back and forth between them, pondering the circumstances in which they would have met.

"Sure will miss Olivia, though," Daryl called from his desk behind them, with his best straight face. Neither man held any affection for the former employee of the Mayor.

"Officer Dixon, good to see you as well." Deana took his hand in hers which immediately made him regret speaking. Michonne and Rick shared a quick smile at Daryl's obvious discomfort.

"I'll get the Sheriff for you," Leon offered from the front desk.

"No need. We know where his office is and he's expecting us." Deana waved a hand at him trying her best to be casual. "Keep up the good work, boys," she smiled as she walked down the hallway to the their boss's office, Michonne following.

"She looks the same, just ten years older," Daryl commented, drawing a smile from Rick. Deana was an extremely ambitious prosecutor when Daryl and Rick started on the force. She was a small woman, barely over five feet, but she had an air about her that exuded power much bigger than her stature. She had made her mark by the time they met and she was already planning her run for District Attorney. They worked a few cases together in that first year and, when she won the election, they saw her less frequently but enough to remain friendly. A few years later she lost a re-election bid and decided she'd rather be in charge of the whole town. She ran for Mayor in the next cycle and won and she'd run the show ever since.

Rick sat back in the chair at his desk flipping through files. They had a few hours of paperwork before they had to be back on the street. "Meryl's heading to court in a few days," he said, looking at a sheet of paper stapled to one of the folders.

"Yeah, my guy said it's causing some problems, him being off the street. Can't keep up with business without their go-to loser."

"Glad he's achieved such high status in his chosen career path."

Daryl snickered, "Yeah well, seems the drug flow into town is backing up. Someone's gonna pick up his slack. Maybe we'll get lucky and the new guy will be stupid enough to trace."

"Yeah, cause Meryl's such a brain." Rick pushed his chair out and handed Daryl the file to review.

"Someone's gonna slip up sometime. Those guys from the city trusting these dumbass rednecks in this little town to do their business? It's only a matter of time."

"I hope so. They're getting bolder; someone was mugged last weekend, coming out of the ATM."

"Prices going up. Supply and demand and all that. Druggies must need the cash," Daryl surmised, shrugging his shoulders as he flipped through the papers.

"Yeah, or some of those city guys are expanding their territory with that too. Either way, it's ramping up. We're gonna have to look into it."

…

" _Can Carl hang out this weekend, before he goes to your mom's for the week? You can come too :)"_

Rick laughed when he read Michonne's text, shaking his head. It was almost one in the morning and he was lounging on his couch, flipping through the hundred plus channels he wasn't sure why he paid for, while trying to stay awake. He started a week of overnights on Sunday in exchange for having the holiday off, so he was acclimating himself to the schedule shift.

" _Why are you up?"_

" _It's Friday night, Rick. I went out for a drink with Andrea, she just dropped me off."_

" _So you're drunk dialing me for a playdate with my kid?"_

Michonne giggled at his joke. She was sort of drunk. She lay on her couch after having exchanged her heels and jeans for sweats. She knew he would be up and wanted to catch him before he made plans for the next day. When she was in Atlanta she was only a few streets away from her brother's family. She would babysit her nephews frequently, taking them to the park, going to their little league games. They had a close relationship and she was missing them. Rick had kindly been sharing his son with her on a regular basis and it helped her homesickness.

" _I am. :)"_

" _I've got to get him a nice shirt and pants for his Thanksgiving concert. You wanna come?"_

" _Yes!"_

Of course she did, Rick laughed to himself. He wasn't looking forward to clothes shopping with a ten year old, but he should have known she would be.

" _Noon? Mall?"_ He wasn't going to be up much before then.

" _I'll pick you up so I can choose the music in the car. Good night. Stay awake!"_

He said goodnight to her, sorry to lose the company, and turned back to the television to try again.

…

"Can I get a new video game?" Carl asked from the back seat of Michonne's Honda as she tried to find a parking spot at the large mall just outside of town. She had picked them up as promised and she and Carl spent the ride chatting pleasantly while Rick stared out the window looking like a zombie. She noticed his hair was a bit disheveled and his ever present, button down shirt was slightly wrinkled.

"Nope," Rick replied without looking at him. He covered a large yawn with the back of his hand. Day one was always the hardest when he was adjusting to staying up at night.

"So, tell me about your concert, Carl," Michonne interrupted before he could argue with his father.

"I have to wear a shirt and tie and sing some stupid songs about turkeys. It's pretty much the lamest thing ever."

She had to agree, that did sound pretty lame, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "They don't do the whole pageant thing anymore? Where you dress up like pilgrims and act out the first Thanksgiving?" She finally found a spot in front of the back entrance and put the car in park.

"No, I guess we're just supposed to focus on the turkeys now. You know, the whole scalping and smallpox thing and all that." He stuffed his Ipod into his coat pocket and undid his seatbelt while Rick and Michonne eyed him in the mirror, mouths open. Neither one was expecting that answer.

"Ok, where are we starting?" she asked as they entered the large shopping complex. Both father and son looked at her as if they hadn't the slightest idea where to find what they needed. "Good thing I'm here," she sighed. She looked at the large map in the middle of what looked like the center of the building and mentally noted a few places she thought would have the best selection. She and Carl took off while Rick trailed behind them, barely keeping up.

After holding up what felt like all of the shirts in the first store, Michonne finally settled on a crisp, blue, collared dress shirt. Since neither man could remember what color tie Carl already owned and he was still too small to wear one of Rick's, she picked out a new one to go with it.

"Pants section's over there," Rick pointed.

"Can we get lunch first?" Carl asked ignoring the fact that they had eaten breakfast about two hours prior.

"How about you be less picky this time and just take whatever pants Michonne picks out and then we can eat lunch."

"Fine."

"This should be the easy part, Carl," Michonne smiled. They walked the few feet over to the racks of pants and she held up a pair of grey slacks. "What size?"

Again, both men were clueless. Rick pulled Carl over and lifted up the back of his shirt to read the label on his jeans. "These," he said, holding up a pair of 32 inch waist pants.

Michonne eyed the baggy jeans the boy was wearing, they slipped down past his hips and his boxer shorts were peaking out of the top. She grabbed a smaller size and handed them to Carl to go try on.

Once they had successfully put together an outfit they made their way toward the food court in the east wing of the mall. Rick insisted on paying for Michonne's lunch in an offering of thanks for taking over the shopping task. It was one of many times he was forced to remember just how much Carl would be at a disadvantage growing up without a mother to do these types of things. He tried his best to take on both roles but, having a woman to help with clothes selection and other things Lori would have done was no doubt helpful.

They sat at a table, unwrapping sandwiches and passing out sodas. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Michonne?" Carl asked, in between bites.

"Oh, Maggie actually invited me to come to her father's house. My family doesn't live around here. She said you two were going to be there as well."

"No way! That's awesome," Carl exclaimed, smiling at her and then his dad.

"We will be there," Rick replied, wearing his own large grin. "I'm the reason dinner is so late this year. I'm working the night before."

"I had a feeling that was why."

"Beth will be home, too," Carl said to no one in particular as he looked down at his sandwich.

"Maggie's sister," Rick explained. "She's in college." He gave Michonne a little nod and wink towards Carl and Michonne surmised that the boy was looking forward to seeing Beth very much.

"Can't wait to meet her," she said, nudging Carl with her elbow.

When they had finally started the drive back to Rick's house, the late afternoon sun was low in the sky. Carl and Michonne resumed their easy conversation from the ride over and before long Michonne looked beside her to see Rick slumped against the car window, asleep. She pointed to him, alerting Carl and he rolled his eyes.

"So, what's your favorite Thanksgiving food?" Michonne asked him once they had both chuckled at Rick.

"Turkey, I guess," he shrugged.

"Oh, right, you don't like sweets. I forgot you were an alien or something." She gave him a disgusted look in the rear view mirror and he laughed. "So, no venison on the menu?"

"Uncle Daryl won't be there so, I guess not. Too bad, you guys don't know what you're missing."

"Mmhmm," she hummed in response.

"I'm glad you're coming, and that we are going to Hershel's." Michonne looked up at him when his tone dropped to closer to a sigh and she noticed he was staring out the window. "It's better to just do it all different instead of going to my grandmother's like usual, except without my mom."

She straightened a bit in her seat, surprised that he was bringing up his mother with her. She hadn't heard either of them speak of the woman yet. She looked over at Rick to see that he was still asleep and contemplated how she would respond. If Carl felt like he wanted to talk about it with her, she wanted to make sure he knew she would listen. "Sometimes it is better to make new traditions when you lose something," she said after a moment. "But that doesn't mean you have to forget the old ones."

"I won't but, I think my dad would rather. It will be good for him to be with Hershel. My grandmother's great but she always looks at him like she's worried or scared. Like when he showed up with that cut on his face and his hand all messed up. Or the time before that when Daryl came to get me because he had to stay late at work cause he got in a fight with a guy he was trying to arrest." He continued to gaze out the window as he poured his worries out to her. "Then my dad gets irritated at her. She probably won't do that with everyone else around."

Michonne was simultaneously taken aback by the boy's astute assessment of the adults in his life and saddened for him and his father for what they were dealing with. She remembered when her own mother had passed away, the first set of holidays was the worst. She glanced one more time at a sleeping Rick and sighed. "Well, kiddo, I think you're right, this year will be different and some of that may be good and some may be a little hard. Let's make a deal; if you get to one of the hard parts, you come find me. I'll be wherever the desserts are being served." She gave him a big smile in the mirror and watched his frown start to turn up at the corners.

"Deal."

After awhile they had arrived at Rick's driveway and Michonne came to a stop next to his truck.

"Rick!" She pushed his arm for the second time since they had been parked. Carl was gathering his bags from the seat beside him while she tried to wake his father. Rick sat up, startled and looked rapidly back and forth around him, his hand instinctively reaching for where the bullet had pierced his body. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said, wondering what he had been dreaming about when she saw him look down at his hand and inspect it as if he expected to see something there.

"Shit," he muttered when he realized he had nodded off. "So much for trying to get into the overnight routine."

"It's still early," she said, soothingly. "You can stay up all night and make up for it."

He stretched his arms out in front of him and then reached back to shrug on his jacket that he had shed once he got in her car. "Thanks a lot for your help with this." He glanced back at Carl, waiting for him to thank her as well, which he did as he jumped out of the car and ran up the steps. "He'll look a lot nicer than he would have if I had picked them out."

"You're very welcome. And thanks for letting me get my Carl fix." She was smiling widely, obviously having enjoyed her time with his son.

"I'll see you at the end of the week then, at Hershel's?"

"You will." She thought of what Carl had confessed about the upcoming holiday and feeling a pull in her heart she reached out to squeeze his forearm as he got out of the car. He smiled at her, his blue eyes questioning just slightly but still content to receive the gesture. "Stay awake!" she called as he turned toward the house. He waved behind him and went inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Maggie waltzed down the stairs of her childhood home, happily humming a tune to herself as she made her way to the kitchen. She loved the holidays and everything that came with them and she was acutely aware of her good fortune to be able to spend them in a place that looked like a postcard. The farm house was decked out in cut sunflowers and ornamental pumpkins, candles imparting the smell of crisp autumn air upon their senses. She and Beth had spent the entire evening prior decorating every mantel and tabletop for the occasion. Her sister would only be home for a short while before heading back to school and they were wasting no time recreating the holidays their mother had provided them as girls. They made sure every corner was ablaze in the colors of the season.

When she came into the large, sunny room she found Hershel preparing a cranberry sauce from scratch and Beth sitting at the island, swinging her legs from the stool she was perched upon.

"Everything ready?" Maggie asked, sneaking a peek inside the oven at the turkey.

Hershel shooed her away with a flick of a dishtowel he was holding and she retreated. "It will be ready to come out just in time for dinner and we'll throw the pies in then. When is Glenn getting here? And Jimmie?"

Both of the girls had boyfriends joining them for dinner though, Glenn was practically family by now, having been paired with Maggie for the past four years. Jimmie was a new addition for Beth. They had known him off and on for years but the two had only recently become an item.

"I told everyone dinner was at three and to come anytime after one for appetizers." Maggie had taken the reigns on organizing the day as she was officially the woman of the house at twenty-eight, and she loved every part of it. She looked at the clock and it was just striking one p.m.

"Beth, make sure the table is set?" she asked her sister with a sweet smile. Beth gave her a look that said she was unimpressed with being ordered around, but she complied.

Just as Beth was finishing, she heard the doorbell ring and turned to see Maggie open it. Rebeccah, Rick's mother, stood holding a large casserole dish and a bag of groceries slung over her shoulder. Carl was behind her balancing another casserole dish and a bowl that was covered with plastic wrap. The woman smiled brightly at the sight of Maggie, as she always did. Having two boys herself she had always loved doting on Hershel's girls. Her husband had known Hershel all his life and thus they had watched Maggie and Beth grow up from little girls to bright, young women. Rebeccah shifted the casserole dish to the crook of one arm and embraced Maggie with the other.

"Maggie, you look beautiful!" the older woman sang, as she pushed out her shoulders to take in her whole outfit. Maggie was wearing a green, cap sleeved dress and the color looked beautiful on her, as usual.

"Thank you, Rebeccah. Why do you have so much food?" Maggie exclaimed as she pulled away and turned to hug Carl.

"Oh, it's just a few things. This bag is from Rick. He picked up some wine and didn't want people standing around waiting for him to have a drink." She took the bag off of her shoulder and handed it to Beth who had joined them to greet their guests. "He'll be here later after he gets some sleep."

Both girls nodded and helped Rebeccah bring the bowls into the kitchen. "Hi, Carl," Beth said brightly as she walked beside him, following Maggie. "How's school?"

"Um, good," Carl stammered, his face bright red. He ditched the dish he was carrying as soon as he made it to the kitchen and headed back toward the door. "I'm going to see the horses real quick," he called, already opening the door.

"Carl, don't get dirty before dinner!" Rebeccah called after him, but he was outside before he could hear her.

Rebeccah and Hershel were catching up in the kitchen, sorting the food she had brought with her, while Maggie and Beth plated crackers and cheese at the dining room table. The doorbell sounded again and Maggie beat her sister to it. She was hoping to be the one to catch Jimmy's arrival first, to annoy her younger sister. When she opened it, however, she was greeted by Glenn and Michonne.

"Look who I found," Glenn said, nodding at Michonne. Maggie stepped out to greet them both with a hug.

"I'm so glad you found it ok," Maggie said to Michonne.

"Perfect directions," she smiled. She handed Maggie a glass bowl holding what looked like a layered mousse and cake dessert and Maggie held it up to inspect it with hungry eyes.

"That looks amazing, and so do you."

"Thanks! I'm glad I'm not over dressed. I wasn't sure." She removed her coat, revealing a long, burnt orange dress that highlighted the golden tones in her dark skin. Her locks had a curl to them and they just brushed the cropped, cream colored sweater covered her shoulders.

"Not at all," her friend smiled, taking her hand. "Come meet everyone."

Glenn had already slipped past them and was munching on a cracker, talking with Hershel in the kitchen. Rebeccah and Beth were admiring the table settings. Maggie spoke loud enough to get both pairs attention.

"Everyone, this is Michonne. She is a friend of mine from work and outside work. Michonne, this is my daddy Hershel, my little sister Beth, Rebeccah Grimes; Rick's mama and of course you know Glenn." Maggie pointed around the room as she introduced her family and each one smiled when she got to them.

"Welcome, Michonne. We are glad you could join us," Hershel said, taking her hand in his. His bright, blue eyes were sparkling and he wore a crisp, white shirt under suspenders. Michonne thought he looked the quintessential southern gentleman.

"It was kind of you all to have me today," she said, shaking the man's hand.

"Nonsense," he shook his head. "Maggie and Beth's friends are always welcome here."

"Hi Michonne," Beth spoke up, "That's a real pretty name."

"Thank you, Beth." Michonne smiled at the girl then turned to Rick's mother offering her hand when the door slammed open and Carl returned to the house and their attention.

"Michonne!" Carl shouted as he ran over to her, embracing her around the waist.

"Hey, Carl!" she choked out, almost knocked off balance by his hug. "Nice shirt." He was wearing the shirt she had picked out for his concert and he smiled at her compliment.

"Hey, Carl," Glenn waved, feeling ignored by the boy. Usually it was him that Carl was excited to see arrive.

"Hey, Glenn. Happy Thanksgiving," Carl offered with a high five.

"So, you already know Carl," Rebeccah smiled, wondering about this woman whom her grandson seemed so taken with.

"Yes, we've met." She laughed inwardly at the understatement.

"Rick will be here sometime before dinner," Maggie told Michonne and Glenn. "For now he sends this." She filled two wine glasses, offering them each one. As she took a sip of hers the doorbell rang again and Maggie eyed Beth before they both ran for it.

…

Rick was procrastinating. He was already showered and dressed in dark jeans and a white button down shirt and he sat on his bed clutching two ties that he was pretending to decide between. In reality he didn't care at all which one looked best, he was simply trying to summon the will to face the day.

The holiday had snuck up on him. Between the seemingly everlasting summer they had and the work he had been throwing himself into, the Autumn slipped by and now he sat facing his first holiday since Lori without having taken a moment to contemplate it until now. He rubbed a hand over his face, tossing both ties aside and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. He would really only wear ties to these types of things because Lori always insisted. He'd fight her on the pants, explaining that after wearing that uniform all week, he was sticking with jeans, but the tie he always gave in on. He picked them back up briefly wondering if his mother would notice he didn't have one on and corner him about what that meant about how he was feeling. Rising from the bed he threw them down again, dismissing the idea as quickly as it had come.

He looked at his watch; his father's, given to him long ago when he passed. Quarter past two. He groaned, running his hand through his curls one more time and looked out the window. It was sunny now but, clouds were forming in the distance and it felt like it could actually snow. He grabbed his shearling lined jacket and his keys and headed outside to his truck. After sitting in the cab for a few more minutes, willing himself to turn the key, he finally headed toward Hershel's.

…

Michonne and Maggie sat on Hershel's couch watching Glenn and Jimmy play a game with the cap to one of their beer bottles. There was a quick moment of regret on Carl's face when Jimmy had arrived, greeting Beth with a kiss but, it had quickly passed. He now sat laughing at the two men and betting on the outcome of their game.

It had started to spit cold and biting snow flakes by the time Rick arrived and he brushed the white off of his sleeves as he let himself into Hershel's front door.

"Rick!" Glenn said first. "How's it going, man? You get any sleep?" He greeted his friend with a half hug, half slap on the back and stepped aside.

"Yeah, I did alright," Rick answered, dishonestly. He had probably gotten about four hours total. "Hey, Beth." He squeezed the girl in a tight embrace, happy to see her again. Beth was almost fifteen years younger than him so he didn't have any childhood memories with her but he had watched her grow up and she was family, just like Maggie.

Maggie and Michonne stood as he entered the living room, shedding his jacket and placing it in Beth's outstretched hand. He hugged Maggie and turned to Michonne embracing her next, his arms resting on the small of her back and her shoulders. It quickly occurred to him that he had never hugged her before. She hugged him back, her chin tipped up to reach his shoulder. She smelled like vanilla he noted, surprising himself at the thought. He tried to remember what Maggie smelled like when he had hugged her and realized he couldn't.

"Hey, Dad," Carl said nonchalantly. "We were gonna eat without you."

"Stop," Rebeccah said as Rick frowned at Carl. "We wouldn't." She hugged her son warmly and Hershel stepped in to shake his hand when his mother was through.

"Rick, this is Jimmy," Beth said, gesturing to the young man who shook Rick's hand and greeted him. Rick discreetly looked over at Carl to gauge how he was feeling about Jimmy being here but he seemed to not be paying any attention.

"Dixon coming?" Glenn asked when everyone was introduced and Rick had been given a beer.

"Nah, he's sleeping till about now then heading to his grandmother's for supper." Daryl's parents were both gone and he joined Rick at Rebeccah's house from time to time for dinner. With Meryl the way he was, his grandmother was his only family. He made a point to see her on holidays.

Glenn nodded, slightly disappointed. Daryl had a way of making Hershel laugh that served as great dinner entertainment.

"Well, turkey is about ready," Hershel announced. "Why don't we all take a seat?"

The table had been extended in Hershel's dining room and another added to the end, to accommodate all of them. All of the dishes were displayed beautifully down the length of it with a large space in the middle where a platter sat, surrounded by cut flowers. Hershel took one of the seats at the head of the table, after bringing the turkey out and setting it in the empty spot. Rebeccah took the other while Carl sat to her right. Jimmy and Beth took the seats to Hershel's left. Rick sat across from Carl to Rebeccah's left and he couldn't help but notice the empty seat next to his son where Lori might have sat any other year. He was looking down at his plate, trying to shake the image of her in that chair when he felt Michonne slide into the seat next to him. Maggie and Glenn were already seated on the other side of her. Rick looked up at her and she gave him a small raise of her eyebrow, silently questioning his change in mood. He smiled, and took a sip of beer, not wanted to give away what he had been thinking.

After leading a blessing, Hershel carved the turkey and everyone filled their plates. The chatter was pleasant. Glenn talked about a promotion he was receiving at work which would allow him a better schedule. Michonne asked Carl about his Thanksgiving concert and he regaled them all with a rendition of one of the songs about turkeys, leaving Rebeccah wiping away tears of laughter. Beth told them all about her classes this semester and what she was going to do over her upcoming month long, holiday break. Rick hadn't said much, the lack of sleep and thoughts of his broken family lulling him into a state of quiet. He answered a question Hershel asked him about Shane and Jimmy looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes as if he was trying to remember something. Rick met the boy's gaze then looked back down, listening to something Maggie was saying.

When the conversation lulled again Jimmy looked across at Rick and said "I'm sorry, Mr. Grimes, you just look really familiar to me. I can't place it." Glenn and Michonne both straightened a bit hoping that they had just run into each other in town and Jimmy wasn't recognizing him from the newspapers. Jimmy had been off at college too so it was unlikely he remembered the incident first hand.

"Maybe he gave you a speeding ticket?" Glenn joked, hoping that might be the case.

"Oh, Officer Grimes. You're a cop.," Jimmy said, as if he was working it out in his head.

At this point Rebeccah had taken notice of the conversation and looked over at her son with worried eyes. Rick had always had a hard time keeping his emotions in control, even as a boy. He had learned to tame it in his adult life, even harness that fire to keep him safe on the job. Lately, it seemed he was losing that ability and he always seemed to be in fight or flight mode. She knew Rick did not want to talk about what happened. He couldn't yet separate the shooting with the falling apart of his family and so he avoided all mention of it. She feared him over reacting or simply finding an excuse to leave if the topic was broached with someone he didn't know.

The sight of his mother's gaze on him made Rick's muscles tense. He casually ran a finger around the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling like it was too tight. Michonne looked over at him with her eyes slightly squinted, studying his face. She watched as he dropped his hands to his lap and began rubbing his left thumb in circles on his right palm as she had seen him do before.

"I am a cop," he answered, trying to figure out what was coming next.

"You were in the papers, right?" Jimmy asked, completely oblivious to the discomfort of the table. "Awhile ago?"

Michonne could practically feel the tension rolling off of Rick as he sat beside her, his jaw clenched and his face reddening. She could tell he was struggling with the urge to retreat as his eyes flitted across the room toward the door. She discreetly reached a hand over and found the back of Rick's arm, placing a light touch against his elbow and holding it for a few moments, urging him to stay.

Rebeccah noticed the gesture but kept her eyes on Rick's face. She watched in awe as her son's eyes closed for a moment and he breathed out, his jaw loosening from the clenched position he had been holding. He glanced over at Michonne and Rebeccah noticed she looked straight ahead while maintaining their contact, never giving away that she was holding onto him, steadying him. Looking back down again, Rick settled into his chair and picked up his fork to push some food around on his plate.

"Yeah," he said slowly, cocking his head to the side and averting Jimmy's gaze. "You've probably seen my picture."

"Rick was shot in the line of duty," Hershel explained gently, eyeing both men back and forth. "The newspapers covered it. But he is healed now and moving on."

Michonne looked back up at Rick and saw that he was taking a sip of his beer, waiting to see if he would need to respond any further. Jimmy seemed to finally pick up the mood shift and nodded, indicating he was dropping the line of questioning. Breathing a sigh of relief for her friend, Maggie quickly began another conversation, leaving Rick to settle back into his silence.

When dinner was over and the dishes had been cleared, Rick slipped on his coat and quietly walked past his friends, trying not to attract attention as he headed to the door. They sat chatting in the living room, fighting various stages of food hangovers and enjoying the quiet conversation that had overtaken the room. Turning the knob to Hershel's front door he slid outside, crossing the porch and coming to rest with his forearms on the railing. The light snow fell softly into the glass of whiskey he had poured himself, mixing with the caramel colored liquid.

Noticing his escape, Michonne offered her seat to Carl and made her way behind Rick, also slipping out unnoticed. "You wanna talk about it?" she said, coming to stand next to him.

Her eyes followed his as they stood looking out on Hershel's expansive fields which were slowly turning from brown to white. The snow was starting to stick to the dead grass and the view was changing before his eyes. He glanced at her, then back to the field in front of him, taking a sip of his drink before answering. "Not really." His voice was raspy and she noticed his accent was thicker when his words were heavy. She nodded, leaning forward to mirror his stance.

"I know what it's like," she started. "Having your worst days play out in front of an audience." He glanced in her direction and she took it as a sign to continue. "It was hard enough for me where I was just a drop in the ocean. But here, where everybody knows everybody, I imagine it's suffocating. That's why I moved here, actually. To get a new start."

He was looking at her now and she turned her head to meet his gaze. His eyes were intense and she almost shuddered at how quickly they could go from light to a dark, stormy blue. She reached for his whiskey and he complied, watching her take a slow sip. "I told you my firm handled some high profile cases. I didn't do too many of them myself but, I had a few. The last big one was the reason I decided to choose a different career path," she sighed. "I defended a man who was charged with raping a girl. Statutory rape. He was a teacher, she was a student. It was a closely followed case with a lot of accusations on both sides."

Rick took his glass back from her, turning over his shoulder to settle his hip against the railing, facing her now. He wanted to see her face while she told him her story, to watch her eyes. He was beginning to get the feeling he might see something there that he needed.

She continued speaking, letting him search her face. "I believed him, ya know? He said it was a lie, that she was upset about an unrequited love. Frankly, she seemed unstable, even a little dangerous." Her voice turned soft and she broke eye contact, hanging her head just slightly. "I was a good lawyer. I didn't lose often."

"So, he got off?" Rick guessed.

"I got the case thrown out entirely. I found character witnesses; both to defend him and to discredit her. It was easy, she didn't have a lot of people standing up for her."

He nodded, returning to his glass.

"I fucked up. Less than three months later he gets caught with another girl. Much younger, much more...likeable." Michonne was hugging her arms now, feeling the cold of the snow on her face as she spoke. "The papers were all over it. The community was enraged. It was my fault, this other girl."

"You were doing your job," he said after a moment.

"Some way to make money."

Rick let her words hang for a few minutes as he contemplated her confession. "Well," he drawled finally, "Innocent people aren't really my specialty but, I know I'm glad that the ones who actually are have the opportunity for justice. That's because of lawyers like you."

"This one wasn't, though. And I was blind. I thought I knew everything. Thought I wanted my name in the papers. I was going to prove him innocent and be some hot shot around the office. I got my name in the paper, that's for sure. And the signs outside of my house. And the sneers at the grocery store."

He turned back to the landscape, mulling over her words in his head. She reached for his glass again, draining it. They stood in silence for a few moments until Rick spoke again. "So, you just left?"

"I ran away. I left my life, my brother. I didn't want any part of that world anymore."

"But, you found a new career. You're doing important work with Deana, for this place."

She nodded. "Yes but, my heart was broken. My whole world had come crashing down. Andrea helped me. You all did. This group, you are all like family and you welcomed me with open arms. You made me see that my life wasn't over just because it didn't turn out like I had planned. That meant everything." His eyes were back on her and she met them again.

Rick found himself fighting the urge to close the space between them, to take her hand and express how he understood what she was trying to tell him. He wanted to tell her that her friendship meant the same to him. The way she had been a friend to him without demanding an explanation when he got lost in his thoughts. The way she had never looked at him like she was afraid. The way she had shared her calm with him with a simple touch. He was grateful for it all but he didn't know how to say the words and all he could do was nod. She seemed to understand that too, as she gifted him one more smile before turning away with a brush of her fingers on his arm as she passed.

Michonne made her way back into the house, grateful for the warmth. As she rounded the corner to reclaim her seat, Rebeccah met her in the small hallway before the living room. "It's a hard day for them," she said, referring to Rick and Carl. "Lots of ghosts. I get the feeling it's good that you're here." She picked up Michonne's hand and squeezed it before sliding past her and disappearing into the kitchen. Michonne had to agree. It was good for her to be there too.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Thanks for all of your reviews! I love reading them :-)**

" _Are you riding with me or Shane?"_

Andrea read the text and realized she was running very far behind schedule. "Michonne wants to know if I'm riding with her or you," she called over her shoulder as Shane came out of her bathroom, wearing a towel and drying his hair with another.

"If I've got any shirts over here then I don't need to stop home. We can go together."

"You're not worried about showing up in one car?"

"Honey, I think they're all over it. We aren't fooling anyone."

" _Shane's coming to get me."_ she lied, tossing the phone on the bed.

"Maybe she'll ride with Rick," Andrea said as she dug through her top drawer to find one of Shane's shirts.

"Speaking of not fooling anyone," he smirked.

"Uh uh. That's not a thing. I would know because I've been trying to _arrange_ it for a few months. No one listens to me," she huffed as she flung a t shirt at his head.

Shane turned serious as he pulled it over his head. "Don't push," he warned. "Rick needs to figure out where he's at on his own."

"Where he's at is oblivion. Her too. Everyone else sees it plain as day, you said so yourself."

"Everyone else didn't just go through what he went through. Back off. Let him come around. He ain't any good for it right now, anyways. He's gotta come back before he can go forward."

She shrugged knowing he was right but, still feeling disheartened. She only wanted her friends to be happy and she didn't know how not to be pushy about it. "I'm over it," she lied.

…

"Thanks for picking me up," Maggie said as she hopped into the passenger side of Michonne's car. "I know it's out of your way."

"It's fine! Silly for you and Glenn to take two cars. I don't mind at all."

"You look nice," Maggie complemented, taking in Michonne's dark jeans and bright red top, covered by a cropped black jacket. "Did you have a good day off?" Maggie flipped the visor down and the cabin was illuminated by the tiny white light bulb as she began fluffing her chestnut locks.

"Thanks, and I did. I slept off all of that turkey from yesterday and got some work done."

"Ugh, you would." The car darkened again as Maggie finished her primping and began fiddling with the radio. "It was a good holiday. Rick's mother liked you."

Michonne looked at her friend out of the corner of her eye as she drove. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, after you left she was asking Rick all sorts of questions. When she didn't get what she wanted, she turned on Carl."

"What kind of questions?"

"You know, how Carl knew you so well but she hadn't heard of you yet and what kinda time you two were spending together."

"Me and Carl?" Michonne asked, pretending not to get the inference.

"No…She was just happy to hear Rick was being social, that he had someone to talk to. And she liked you so she was glad it was you."

"I'm not going to be able to park in front," Michonne said, changing the subject. She looked at the line of cars in front of the bar and kept driving. Once they had settled on a spot close enough that Michonne wouldn't regret the walk back later that evening, Maggie grabbed her purse and Michonne unloaded a couple of things she didn't want to carry with her. With two beeps, Michonne locked the door behind her and they headed up the street to Morgan's bar, their heels clicking on the pavement and their breath puffing out little white clouds in front of them.

As they came through the door the warmth and the loud boom of Abraham's voice hit them all at once. He was standing at the bar, directly in front of them, his large frame obscuring the person whom he was conversing with. "Maggie!" a female voice came from around him as he turned to reveal Morgan's wife behind the bar.

"Hi Carol!" Maggie said, genuinely surprised to see her friend. "What are you doing here?" She climbed up on her knees on a barstool, leaning over to give the woman a hug.

"The Friday after Thanksgiving? It's the busiest night for this place!" She released Maggie and turned to Michonne, reaching for her hand. "Hi, again," she smiled. "How did the cookies go over last month?"

Michonne smiled brightly, surprised that the woman remembered her from the one time she was in her bakery but, she guessed that was how it was in a small town. "They were delicious. I'll definitely be back."

Carol looked a little older than Morgan, with gray hair and a few wrinkles around her eyes, obviously born from many smiles over the years. She was very pretty with piercing blue eyes that reminded her of Rick's. Michonne briefly wondered if they were somehow related since everyone here seemed to be but, she dropped the thought when Rick appeared behind her with Daryl and Sasha and gave the woman a friendly greeting not unlike the one he gave Morgan.

Everyone hugged their hellos and Michonne turned to embrace Rick because they did that now, she realized. He smelled like soap and aftershave even though his stubble looked like it had doubled since the day before. "I've never seen your face like that?" she smiled as she pulled away to look up at him.

"Yeah," he said dragging the word out slowly. "It'll be gone soon enough. I only let it go when I'm on overnights and not about to run into the Sherrif."

"Rebel," she laughed at him, turning to Daryl to hug her greeting.

"What are you drinking?" Rick asked, bringing her attention back to him as he pulled out his wallet.

"You don't have to…"

"I want to." His eyes were shining ever so slightly and she wondered if he and Daryl had had a few before they headed over here.

"I'll have whatever you are having."

"Whiskey?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I'll have a rum and coke," she laughed, thinking of the sips she had taken of his drink the day before and remembering her distaste for the liquor. "And I'll get the next round."

Rick smiled, knowing he had no intention of letting that happen. He wasn't sure why he had felt so strongly about buying her a drink but he was feeling grateful to her for their conversation the day before and he wanted to take care of her. It couldn't have been easy to share her past with him, he knew that all too well. She had bared a part of herself that was painful for her just to show him she understood what he was going through. He had been thankful for the discretion she had shown him since the first time they had met at this bar and she had witnessed his awkward exchange with Jessie. She hadn't asked, hadn't judged and hadn't looked at him like he was going to break. He instantly felt like he could trust her, something he accredited to few people these days. Yesterday she had proven him right and he was feeling a new closeness with her.

He turned toward the bar to wait his turn for Morgan or Carol's attention. He absentmindedly tapped his card on the wooden surface making a clicking sound that matched the beat of the music playing around him. Rum and coke seemed like a fitting choice for Michonne he mused, hard yet still sweet.

"What can I get you, Sunshine?" Carol appeared before him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Rum and coke and a whiskey on the rocks, please." He handed her his card, "Can you keep a tab open?"

"Mmhmm," Carol hummed, grabbing a tall glass and a short one and filling them both with ice. "You chasing one with the other?" She smiled up at him between measuring her pours.

He squinted at her, a smile playing on one corner of his mouth. "That would be an odd choice."

"Well, Daryl already ordered his drink so I know it's not for him." She nodded over her shoulder where his partner was clinking a pint glass against Abraham's bottle.

"It's about time Dixon started buying his own drinks," Rick smirked, avoiding her game.

She finished spraying the cola into Michonne's glass and hooked a lime onto the edge, pushing both drinks to him at the same time. "Just let me know when you two need another round." Rick had known Carol a long time and he recognized the large, innocent grin on her face. It was something she had perfected for when she wanted to pretend she didn't already know what she knew.

He took the drinks from her without a reply and made his way through the circle their friends had started to form as they arrived. Glenn had joined them by now and Rick nodded a hello as he passed to take a space next to Michonne. He handed her the drink and she lifted it to his in a "cheers" before taking a sip.

"Carol knows how to mix a drink," she whispered, her throat burning from the heavy handed pour. Her face scrunched up, catching a laugh from Daryl who was watching them.

"I'm sittin'," Maggie exclaimed, waving the ever growing group over to the large table they had claimed the last time they were all there.

"Where are Shane and Andrea?" Sasha asked, settling into the long booth between Rick and Daryl.

"Andrea said Shane was on her way to pick her up," Michonne answered, causing Daryl to snort a laugh. She took a seat on the other side of Rick and looked over at him with raised eyebrows. "What?"

"Shane was at her house this afternoon, when I texted him. Had been there since the night before." He held up his phone to emphasise his point. "Not sure who they think they're fooling."

As if on cue the two walked in, a noticeable arms length away from each other, continuing their charade, the whole table laughing at the sight.

…

"Okay, okay," Michonne slurred. "I may have been a bit jumpy but, to be fair, you didn't have to sleep in a secluded house, at the end of a long dirt road, by yourself that night," she pointed a finger at Andrea and Shane who had been recalling a movie they had all watched together on Halloween.

Sasha giggled uncontrollably in the seat next to her, wiping tears away from her face. Rick had begrudgingly lost his seat next to Michonne on one of his trips to the bar and he now sat on the edge next to Daryl.

"Secluded?" Sasha asked, incredulously. "There's like ten houses down there!"

"Yeah, yeah," she waved at the lot of them.

They had held claim on the table for a few hours now, the chairs on the outside serving as a revolving door as most of them came in and out between trips to the bar and the dance floor. Tyreese was occupying one of them now, in between Shane and Andrea who were still playing pretend. Sasha was celebrating both her brother's presence and the fact that she had a ride home from him and she and Michonne had been going drink for drink the whole time. Both were feeling the effects of their indulgence. Rick eyed them with increasing amusement as they became more animated with each round.

"I'm taking you home," Tyrese finally stated with a chuckle as he stood from his seat.

"What?!" Sasha squealed.

"It's time, Sis. You'll thank me tomorrow." The large man offered his hand to Sasha as she squeezed between the table and her friends to get out. Rick got up to offer her a hug good bye and to walk around the table and reclaim a spot next to Michonne. He was tired of sitting next to Daryl, he told himself. He spent 12 hours a day in a car with him at work. The others said their goodbyes to Sasha and Tyreese and Shane sat back down, eyeing Rick's seat change while he sipped his beer. Daryl noticed as well, looking at Andrea to see if she was gloating but she was looking away.

"You're not driving," Rick whispered to Michonne as he slid in beside her.

"Don't worry officer, I'm calling a cab," she laughed.

Rick looked at her like she had two heads. "A cab?"

"What?"

"You shoulda called an hour ago. There's only one in town and there'll be a long wait tonight."

Her face fell at this information but she figured she could get Glenn to drive her since she had brought Maggie there.

"I'll take you," Rick said, as if he was reading her mind.

"Are you sure?" she asked, glancing down at his drink and realizing he had switched to soda. "That will add a half hour to your trip home."

"My brain's still on the overnight routine, I won't be sleeping."

Maggie appeared then, with her coat draped over her arm. "We're calling it a night." She nodded at Glenn who heading to the bar to settle his tab.

Rick looked at Michonne with an eyebrow raised, gauging her readiness to leave. "I'm ready too," she confirmed, slipping on her coat that was scrunched behind her.

"Ok, I'll just go settle up with Morgan," he replied, standing from the booth.

"I'll go with ya," Daryl said, draining the last of his beer.

"I just have to grab something from my car," Michonne said to Rick as she followed him out of the booth. "I'll meet you outside."

"I'll walk you," Maggie offered. "Rick, tell Glenn, I'll see him out there?"

"You driving 'Chonne home?" Daryl asked Rick as they crossed the room together.

Rick nodded as a laugh escaped him, "she thought she was gonna get a cab." Daryl looked at him with the same look he had given Michonne at the suggestion. "I know."

"So, tell me something," Daryl began, as they flagged Morgan over. "You said this ain't a thing and I'm just wondering why. I'm not trying to push or nothin', I'm just saying you seem... better when she's around." Rick's eyes didn't seem to be registering any irritation at the subject so he continued. "Hell, I ain't seen you do anything stupid in weeks."

Rick squinted at him, not sure whether to take offense at the statement. Though, he could agree Daryl had seen him at a few of his worst moments, judgement-wise. He fiddled with his wallet in his hands for a few moments before answering. "I guess I haven't really thought about it that way," he offered. "I mean... it wasn't that long ago I thought me and Lori might be having a baby."

Daryl nodded, understanding the passage of time had obviously felt different for his friend but, from where he stood, it had been a long time since Rick was a happily married man. "It was though," he said, carefully. "It's been a long time since that was a real possibility; you and Lori."

Hearing those words from his best friend left him feeling exposed, found out. He was grieving the comfort of his former life, where everything was settled in place and he knew who he was and what his responsibilities were. He felt adrift in this new reality and he feared what the future would look like, now that he knew he couldn't predict how anyone or anything would turn out. He felt rage at his wife's betrayal and physical pain from where the bullets had changed him forever but, Lori? Was it really about her? He nervously rubbed his boot along the floorboards, not wanting to meet Daryl's gaze. The guilt he felt over not missing his wife had settled in his bones and become part of his pain. He should miss her. He should feel...he had no idea how he should feel and it was overwhelming.

"All I mean is," Daryl said, taking the credit card slip that Morgan was offering and handing Rick his, "ain't nobody thinking it would be too soon for you to be happy again." With a stroke of his pen, Daryl signed his slip and shoved his card in his pocket. "I'm hitting the head. Drive careful, man," he said, leaving it at that.

Rick watched his friend walk off toward the back of the bar while he shoved his own wallet back into his pocket. He spotted Glenn talking to Andrea and stopped to say goodbye. "Maggie's outside with Michonne, said for you to meet her out there," he said distractedly, his thoughts consumed with Daryl's words.

"I'm just going to say 'bye' to Shane and I'll be right out," he said, watching Rick leave.

…

Rick took the two stairs coming out of Morgan's bar quickly and stopped on the sidewalk glancing around for Michonne and Maggie. Eyeing Michonne's car to his left he searched the street just past it and saw the two women standing, back to him.

"You all set?" he called to them, realizing they were speaking to someone who was blocked from his view. He took two more steps and froze as he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked next to his left ear. Rick slowly removed his hands from the pockets of his jacket and raised them to his shoulders, palms open. He could feel the metal on his temple as a tall man, looking to be in his fifties and wearing a beard and a leather jacket appeared at his side. Across from him he watched a younger man with no hair, looking skittish and impatient, emerge from behind Maggie and Michonne. He placed a hand on their shoulders one by one, turning them each around. Rick's body tensed and he felt his jaw tighten as he took in the look of terror on Maggie's face and the sight of Michonne's hands shaking as she turned. "What do you want?" he growled.

Maggie whimpered as the man behind her pushed the two of them closer to Rick, closing the distance between them all. He held a gun to Maggie's back, keeping his other hand on the back of Michonne's neck. "We just want the wallets. Just give 'em up and you'll go home."

Rick let out a laugh. "Mine's in my back pocket. Go ahead and grab it, first thing you're gonna see is my badge."

The bald man's face fell. "Fuck, Joe," he yelled at the man who held Rick.

"You're a cop?" the older man asked, his firm tone only wavering slightly.

"That's right. So, how about you let the girls go and I'll leave out the part where I identified myself as such, when the lawyers ask."

Joe walked slowly around to Rick's side, studying his face. "Wait a minute here. I know who you are." He pushed Rick's chin up with one finger, staring. "This is Meryl's guy."

"That ain't Meryl's brother," the shorter man huffed out, scanning the street nervously.

"Nah, it's the guy that took Meryl out of commission. Made me have to come down to this shit town and get my hands dirty." He pushed the gun into Rick's temple to accentuate his point.

Rick looked up at Michonne, seeing the fear on her face. He tried his best to calm her with his eyes before continuing. "Pulling a gun on a cop is a good way to see your boy again. We'll put you two in neighboring cells, you can catch up."

"Nah," Joe replied. "I don't think that's how this is gonna play out." He laughed again as he made his way directly in front of Rick, dragging the gun around his temple to settle on his forehead. He used his free hand to pat down the sides of Rick's jeans, ensuring he was without his gun. "See, and we were just gonna take these girls' wallets and go home. Now I think we got bigger fish to fry." With that he laughed as he drew his arm back and landed a right cross with the butt of the gun into Rick's jaw, the impact swinging his body to the side.

Maggie let out a small scream and the man who had been holding her wrapped his fingers tightly around her mouth, holding his gun on Michonne now. "Jesus! We ain't got time for this," Joe's partner seethed, looking around the brightly lit sidewalk.

Rick straightened, spitting blood from his mouth onto the pavement. He shook his head trying to clear the white flashes that were blurring his vision and his bleary gaze fell on Michonne. She had a gun pressed to her back and small tears were falling from her otherwise stoic eyes. Joe walked back behind Rick hooking an arm around his throat and pushing the gun into his temple.

"What're you gonna do now, sport?" he taunted, tightening his grip on Rick's neck.

Rick knew Daryl would be coming out that door any minute and maybe Shane, who would be wearing his sidearm, even off duty. If he could stall a few more minutes, maybe let Joe get a few more hits in; backup would arrive. While he was contemplating a plan he felt the man's fist come around and connect with his right side, just under his rib cage. The hit pulled the breath out of his lungs and caused him to lurch forward bending at the waist.

Joe's arm tightened around his neck pulling him back to standing and he looked between Michonne and Maggie, his vision narrowing from the blow he took and the rage that was building in his chest. The overweight man that held them looked volatile, he judged. The hand he held his gun in was twitching and his eyes darted back and forth as he fussed for Joe to finish his game so they could retreat. Rick could see his unease with the situation growing and he knew that would make him dangerous. He didn't have more time, he couldn't risk going unconscious and leaving Maggie and Michonne at the mercy of these men. He had to act while he still could. He threw his head back hard, his skull connecting with Joe's nose in a loud crack, sending the man backwards onto the pavement.

Rick fell to his knees, his head ringing. He tried to look up and find Michonne and Maggie but his eyes wouldn't focus. All of a sudden he heard his name being called behind him. Though it sounded like the man was underwater, he recognized Daryl's voice. His vision slowly returning, he glanced behind him to see his partner and Shane on top of Joe, holding his arms behind his back. In front of him he saw the fat man shove Maggie into Michonne and bolt away from them. Shane yelled for the man to stop, about to take off after him but, Rick quickly stood from the ground. "He's mine," he growled as he took off running.

The man was wheezing loudly after one block and Rick closed the distance between himself and his prey easily. He reached out, grabbing the man by his jacket and threw him to the ground, nearly falling on top of him as he landed hard. In one motion Rick kicked the man's gun that had fallen beside them and drew back his fist, swinging downward to connect with his soft, fleshy jaw. He pulled back and repeated the action again, blood from the man's mouth and nose covering his fist as he struck a second time.

Shane appeared in his peripheral vision and Rick thought he heard him yelling something but all of his senses were consumed with the task at hand. He was holding tightly to the man's throat, pinning him down as he prepared to strike another blow when he felt his arm catch on the way down. Shane grabbed his elbow, pulling him away. Once they were separated, Rick could see blood spilling from the man's mouth onto the pavement as he lay unconscious. He rolled away from him and lay back on the sidewalk, turning his head toward the spot he had come from, searching for Maggie and Michonne.

…

Rick turned the engine off in his truck and looked over at Michonne for the hundredth time in the short ride to her house. The cold invaded the cab as soon as his key finished its turn and the hot air stopped blowing. They sat, bathed in the low light of the dashboard, and stayed silent for a moment.

After Rick had stumbled his way back to where the rest of the group was, he had found her, standing with Carol and speaking to one of the on duty cops who had arrived on the scene. He had pulled her into his arms and she had cried into his embrace, her chest heaving as he held her. He hadn't wanted to let go but they had to give statements and Abraham insisted on checking him out before he would let them leave. Once they were released they had hugged Maggie goodbye and watched her drive off with Glenn before climbing into his truck so he could finally drive Michonne home.

She had been quiet the entire ride and Rick noticed she made no move to open her car door once they were parked in her driveway. "Michonne," he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. The ordeal was finally settling on him now that the adrenaline was retreating and he was forced to perpend the pendulum of emotions he had experienced that night, from the pleasant, unfamiliar calm he felt while sitting next to her in that booth, to the unsettling conversation he had had with Daryl about the end of his marriage. Then, finally, standing across from her and Maggie watching helplessly as they were terrorized in front of him. His thoughts were racing and the silence that normally would have felt comforting to him, felt heavy with words he couldn't yet find. He felt a pull in his chest that he couldn't define and his hands felt shaky like an electric current was running through them. The physical manifestation of his emotions were far more jarring to him than the pain in his body at the moment.

Michonne turned to face him. It was clear that he was trying to speak but was fighting some internal battle over the words he wanted to choose. She studied his expression and the bruising on his face that was starting to appear. "Is it as bad as it looks?" she asked, her voice coming out quieter than she expected.

He stopped his contemplation, grateful for a question he could answer and he allowed a smirk to appear on the half of his mouth that hadn't been bloodied. "I'll live." Wanting to say so much more he settled on, "you ok?"

She smiled back at him, breathing out a sigh. "I'd like to say I wasn't scared but…"

"I was scared," he revealed, studying his wounded hands as they lay before him in his lap.

"Yeah?" she asked. His voice was low and sincere and, despite knowing that his training had kept him more calm than she was in the moment, she believed him.

"I haven't been afraid since I've been out of the hospital." Michonne turned in her seat to face him, taken back by his confession. It had been almost a year since he was shot and she knew from the injuries she had seen him wear in just the short time she had known him, that his job was dangerous. "I guess I got to a place where I figured it was all out of my control anyway. I had it all figured out before and then I woke up from that coma and realized I didn't know shit." His voice sounded foreign to him, like someone was revealing his thoughts just as he discovered them. "You have to be able to see what you want to be afraid of someone taking it. I haven't been able to see more than one day in front of me for awhile now."

"But, tonight?" Her eyes were wet again, his vulnerability beckoning hers like a friend who begs you to ride a terrifying carnival ride.

"Tonight…" He released the word in a long breath, his eyes darting between the floor and her face for a moment, before settling again on his hands. "Tonight I wanted you to be ok...and Maggie. I wanted you not to be scared and I...I wanted to drive you home." He smiled into his lap at his admission, hanging his head sheepishly.

Michonne smiled back, resting her head on the seat and letting out a tiny laugh. "I'm ok, Rick" she said softly, turning her head to meet his gaze. When their eyes met she reached for his hand, holding it on the console that divided them "You're ok, too."

He studied her eyes, trying to figure out how she could possibly know that but, in that moment, he believed her.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N for some reason notifications aren't going out when I update this story. Anybody have any idea why that might be?

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Rick stood behind the curtain listening to people chatter as they filled in the small auditorium. He fiddled with the buttons on his dress uniform, feeling sweat start to appear on his back from the heat the longer sleeves and tie were causing. A dull ache in his hand reminded him of that night, two weeks back and he blinked away the image of his fist connecting with the man's jaw, over and over again. His own face was still bruised and it had hurt to shave for this event. Opening and closing his mouth a few times he tested his jaw for pain, finding none even if the outside painted a different picture.

Maggie and Olivia stood at the corner of the stage, reading through the final copy of Deana's speech and Rick recognized many of the people mulling about around him. Daryl would be in the audience as well as his mother, Hershel and Carl. He wasn't nervous about the actual ceremony; he didn't even have to speak but, he was beginning to feel that familiar tension in his neck whenever he thought about the night he was shot and the aftermath. Receiving an award for participating in the worst day of his life seemed wrong.

"God, this thing is tighter than the dress at my cousin's shotgun wedding," Abraham complained, running a finger along the inside of his waist band as he came to stand with Rick. "Been awhile since I had to wear the full regalia. Maybe I oughta lay off the beer."

Rick laughed. "Maybe."

Abraham was dressed in his formal uniform, preparing to be honored for his role in saving Rick's life almost a year ago and he was wrestling with the memories himself. The sight of his friend's blood covering his own hands as he begged him, ordered him to hold on, Rick's eyes rolling back as they sped down the highway. He had looked at Rick's face that night thinking it would be the last time and it was something he would never forget. "Thinking how this thing coulda gone down," Abraham mused out loud, "I'm ok with dressing up to celebrate how it did."

Rick nodded. Though, the rest of the story wasn't exactly happy, he was alive. His son still had a father and he had his friend to thank for that.

"Monroe is gonna shit when she sees your face." Abraham let out a loud chuckle, giving Rick a slap on the shoulder before walking off in Maggie's direction.

"What's so funny?" Michonne asked as she took in Rick's smile and Abraham walking away. She had appeared beside him without him noticing and he turned to greet her, shaken from his thoughts.

"Abraham...Nothing," he lied. "Almost time?"

"A few more minutes, Deana is just…"

"Rick!" The tiny woman appeared before him just as quickly and Rick was beginning to wonder if there was a secret door they were all sneaking through to startle him.

"Mayor," Rick greeted, holding out his hand to shake hers.

"Why does your face look like that?" She was speaking loudly enough for the room to hear and Abraham chuckled at his prediction.

"Line of duty," Rick lied again. Michonne looked expectantly between the two, waiting to see how this would play out. Deana was obviously upset that she was about to go on stage and give an award to a man who looked like he had been in a bar fight. Rick didn't seem concerned.

Deana's gaze dropped to Rick's hands, the bandage on his left was gone but his right was wrapped in white tape, having suffered a sprain from the most recent altercation. His knuckles were still raw. Her gaze narrowed. "Listen to me, Rick," Deana said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper allowing only Rick and Michonne to hear her. "I know what you have gone through this year. I know it only got worse when you got out of that hospital but, you have a future to think about." She pointed a finger at his chest as she spoke. "'I've known you a long time, Rick. I know what you're capable of. Where your heart is. You'll be sheriff of this town some day if you can get a handle on whatever... this is." She waved her hand in front of his face, gesturing to his bruises. "Reign it in, Rick."

Rick held her gaze, addled by her words. He was accustomed to seeing pity in people's eyes when they looked at him, then, lately, fear. He had forgotten it wasn't always that way. He had a career path. He was respected by the small community before he was their gossip. Deana was reminding him of that. "Yes, Ma'am, he managed to croak out. "Thank you."

Deana softened then and smiled up at him with genuine pride. "Maybe I'll even lend you Michonne, to run your campaign." She winked and turned over her shoulder, heading to the stage to open the ceremony.

Michonne smiled at the shift in his demeanor, noticing he was holding his shoulders a little higher as if an imaginary weight had been cut. "You ready?" she asked, reaching for his hand and shaking him from his thoughts.

He nodded, letting her lead him to his place to wait beside Abraham before leaving to turn down the steps at the far end of the stage and find her seat in the audience.

…

"Hey, are you old enough to be sitting at this bar?" Michonne nudged Carl's shoulder with hers while peering into his drink with feigned curiosity.

"It's ginger-ale," he quickly responded, holding the glass up for her to have a closer look.

She put down the empty plate she was holding and pretended to inspect the liquid. "Mmhmm. Did you get any cake?" she asked, gesturing to the fork and frosting that remained on her plate.

"You would ask that. Isn't it kinda weird to serve cake at this thing? I mean it isn't his birthday."

"People love cake, Carl." She sighed at his poor taste. "Normal people."

"Yeah, well, I think it's weird. 'Sorry you got shot, here's a medal and some cake'."

Michonne's face fell into a frown. "Ok, I guess it's a little weird, but I'm not complaining."

"Mmmhmm," he hummed, mimicking her previous response.

"Ok, so why aren't you with your dad?" she asked, seeing she was losing a battle on the cake front.

"He's schmoozing," he said, his eyes serious.

"Schmoozing?" she repeated, biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"That's what Uncle Daryl said."

"Of course." Michonne looked over her shoulder to see Rick caught in a conversation with Deana and the Sheriff, looking entirely bored. Despite his undisguised lack of enthusiasm, she felt a bit of pride at the sight of him socializing outside of his inner circle. Though, it was probably a safe bet neither of his companions were going to bring up any touchy subjects, it was still a step for him to be standing there, making small talk with his shoulders held high and no easy escape route planned. "Well, that looks utterly boring," she sighed, hiding the smile on her face. "You wanna play some darts?"

"Are we supposed to?"

"They picked a bar for this reception. If they didn't want us to have fun they should have had it at Deana's office."

Carl chuckled and took a long sip of his soda before responding, looking the spitting image of his father the first time she met him on almost that exact bar stool. He finished his drink and hopped off of the bar stool offering his hand to Michonne so that she could step down from hers. This boy was all charm. Also, just like his father, she thought with a smile.

They saddled up to the row of dart boards and Carl got busy setting their score sheet on the chalkboard to their right while Michonne took a few practice flexes of her arm. "Don't think because you're a kid, I'm going to let you win," she said, handing him the darts and stepping aside for him to go first.

"Yeah, we'll see." Carl tossed his first three darts, watching two fall to the floor and one stick just on the outside of the number six. His face fell.

"Wow, maybe I couldn't let you win if I tried!"

"Funny... I'm just warming up." the boy climbed up onto a stool and waited while Michonne perfected her stance. "So, you coming on the New Year's thing? That house Tyrese rented?" he asked, just as she was about to throw.

She stopped, turning toward him and dropping her hands to her sides. "Are you? I thought your dad was working."

"He offered to work Christmas Day so he has it off now."

"That doesn't sound like a good trade. Why would he want to work Christmas?" Her brow furrowed, trying to work out why Rick would voluntarily spend Christmas away from Carl.

"Oh, uh, I'm going to my mom's now...on Christmas Day. Guess he didn't want to spend it alone." Carl looked nervous as if he was feeling out her response to the fact that he was spending time with his mother after all that had happened.

"Your mom huh?" she replied, trying to tread lightly. It wasn't something she had expected to hear and she was wondering why Rick hadn't mentioned it. It had to have been difficult for him to hear from Lori again. She glanced over her shoulder looking around for him but couldn't find him in the sea of people who were standing around the large, wooden bar. Deciding she could keep the conversation lighter if they kept playing, she took her three shots at the board as she spoke. "I didn't realize you were still in contact."

"Ouch," Carl said as she missed all three shots. "Yeah, I haven't heard from her since she left but she called my dad awhile back and I guess she wants me to come out for Christmas." He accepted the darts from her and took his spot at the line.

"Are you looking forward to it?" she asked, taking his seat on the stool.

"I don't know. I mean, I miss her and all." He tossed one dart and watched it stick in the wall beside the board before he continued. "My dad said I should meet my sister...half sister," he amended after tossing his second dart and watching it fall to the floor.

"Well, I'm sure he wants you to have a relationship with them, if that is what you want."

"I guess. I feel bad leaving him on Christmas. I mean, I'll be with him Christmas Eve at my Grandma's and my mom is picking me up there after he leaves for work. I just, I don't want him to feel like I'm abandoning him too." Carl looked at her then, his eyes searching for some reassurance that he was doing the right thing. She felt a pulling in her heart for the maturity he was displaying in the face of such a tough situation. She could only imagine how Rick was feeling having to send him there on the first Christmas after his family fell apart. No wonder he decided to spend it at work.

"Carl," she said softly, putting her arms out to bring him into an embrace. "He wouldn't think that. It's a hard situation for both of you but he wants to do what's right for you. Don't feel bad for loving both of your parents. What happened between them has nothing to do with you and your dad would never ask you to give up your mother." She held onto him, feeling him settle into her embrace. She didn't know too much about Rick's relationship with his ex-wife and she hoped she wasn't overstepping her bounds but she could see Carl needed the reassurance and if there was anything Rick was not; it was selfish.

He pulled back just a little, looking up at her face with a small smile. "I do kinda want to meet my sister. Will you...Do you think you could help me pick out a present for her? I don't want to make my dad do that."

"Of course," she smiled, feeling her eyes become damp as she pulled him back into her arms and stroking his hair while she held him.

"Everything ok?" Rick asked trepidatiously as he approached what he thought was a friendly dart game only to find Michonne and Carl having a moment.

"We're good." She looked over Carl's head, giving Rick a smile that let him know she would fill him in later.

"Ok," he said tentatively. "Who threw last?" he asked with a chuckle, seeing the darts in the wall and on the floor.

"We're playing our own game...you wouldn't understand the rules" Michonne covered as they ended their embrace and Carl went to retrieve the errant darts.

"Looks like you both could use a few lessons," Rick said. He snatched the darts from his son's hand as he walked by and effortlessly tossed one just outside the bulls eye, turning back to look at them with a cocky grin.

"Come on, Carl," Michonne said with feigned irritation, guiding Carl by the shoulders. "Let's go play pool." She tossed a look over her shoulder catching one more glimpse of his smile as they walked away.

…

" _You did really well today."_

The text message made Rick's phone buzz loudly beside him just as he was about to fall asleep. He and Carl had returned home after the reception finally ended and they had spent the evening watching a movie and eating their typical Friday night take out pizza. He looked over at his son asleep on the couch beside him and stood, taking his phone and the empty plates into the kitchen to respond.

" _Thanks, tipping my head down that far for Deana to put the medal around my neck was pretty tough."_

Michonne laughed out loud at his response. She was sitting alone on her own couch with a glass of wine and a second piece of cake Maggie had discretely handed her on the way out of the bar. It _had_ been amusing watching Deana stand on her tiptoes to reach both Rick and Abraham at the ceremony, she thought. She was a very small woman.

" _That's not what I meant, wise guy."_

" _I meant the whole day. You looked comfortable."_

Rick nodded to himself at her observation. He had felt comfortable despite the cameras and the strangers there to wish him well. He caught himself wondering each time a new person would approach him; what they knew, what they were thinking about him, but he hadn't felt the heat rising in his belly that he had become accustomed to or the urge to turn and leave. He considered how much of that was because Michonne was there. She had taken his hand just before he took the stage and it was if she had streamed her calm into him through their intertwined fingers. He had searched her out a few times at the reception when he felt himself tensing up, pausing to watch her in the midst of a conversation, laughing, looking light. Finding her in the crowd had steadied him.

" _I was ok,"_ he replied, simply.

" _So, Carl told me about Christmas."_ She typed the message slowly, not sure if she wanted to bring it up if he hadn't already but, he would be wondering about the hug he had walked in on.

Rick sighed, glancing back at Carl, still asleep in the other room. He hadn't wanted to guess what his son was seeking comfort from Michonne for but now he knew it couldn't have been anything else. He felt regret that the way he had dealt with it had obviously not been enough if he was turning to her for support.

" _Thanks for being there for him. I'm sure he needed someone to talk to besides me."_

" _I'm glad he feels like he can talk to me."_

Rick chuckled. She obviously had no idea how deep his son's affection for her was. Michonne had taken to Carl at first because she was missing her nephews but she had appeared in Carl's life at just the right time. They fulfilled something for each other and their friendship was something Rick was grateful for every day. In the last few months Michonne had taken over for some of the things Rick wasn't able to provide his son because of his own pain. Daryl had always been there, spending time with Carl, talking with him but, the truth was even his partner was too close to the situation. Michonne knew how to have fun with the boy; something he still needed despite what had happened to him. The rest of them were too busy making sure he was ok.

" _Me too. I'm grateful to you. I can't be his father and his best friend. He needs you."_

Michonne wiped at her eyes, these men were not done making her cry today. She was glad to hear that she was being helpful to Carl but she also worried about his father. She set down her wine glass, feeling like she needed to speak to Rick instead of typing. She wanted to hear his voice and hear for herself that he was ok. She touched the phone icon in the upper right hand corner of their text messaging conversation and held the receiver up to her ear, hearing it begin to ring.

Rick startled at the sound of his ringer cutting through the quiet house and he quickly silenced it as he pulled it up to his ear. "Hey."

"Hey." She imagined that Carl was asleep at Rick's house and she spoke quietly despite being alone in her own. "Sorry, I just didn't want you to be able to text me that you were fine and not be able to hear if you were telling the truth. How are you with this whole thing?"

Rick let out a long sigh. "I'm ok," he said, then laughed self consciously at the thought of her analyzing his tone. "It's...It wasn't an easy decision."

"I'm sure. So, you could have said 'no'?" She wasn't sure what the terms of their custody agreement were but, since his wife had disappeared, she assumed Rick had full custody and therefore the ability to choose when Carl was to see his mother.

"Yeah." Rick drew out the word, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "I thought about it. It's just not fair for me to decide for him. If he wants to see her or...the baby...I wouldn't stop that."

"I know. It's the right thing to do. You're a good man." She spoke sincerely, hoping he could see that she meant it. He was making tough choices despite how he felt and he was being gracious and giving through his pain. She had come to expect nothing less of him. There was a silence for a few beats and she knew he was mulling over her words. "So, Carl also said you're coming on New Year's now."

"We are." Rick said, pulling himself back to the conversation. "You'll be back by then?"

"I fly home the day after Christmas so I'll be back to work for a few days before we head up."

"Why don't we ride together then? We have an extra seat, just us and Daryl." The words tumbled out of his mouth quicker than he had meant and he smiled sheepishly at how eager he sounded. "I mean, if you're not riding with Andrea."

"Yeah, cause I want to be stuck in the back seat of Andrea's car while she and Shane play grab ass for two hours in the front."

He laughed quietly, a vision of Michonne giving her friends her best 'unimpressed' look popping into his head. "I suppose that doesn't sound like too much fun."

"They can ride with Maggie and Glenn. I'm in...but Carl and I are in charge of the radio," she added at the last minute, saving herself from the country and heavy metal stations the two men would be choosing.

"Deal." He laughed again, feeling happier than he had anticipated at the impending road trip.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N Super short chapter but wanted to get it posted. The next couple chapters are still a work in progress so updates aren't going to be as quick. I love reading your reviews. It's the most fun I have had writing since college! Thank you so much for them. They are also really helping me figure out how the next couple chapters are going to be put together. Keep 'em coming! Hopefully the update notifications will be working again soon. I just found new chapters in three of my stories I was following and never got a notification! So hopefully some of you reviewers from early chapters are seeing this!

The air was frigid as Daryl slid into the passenger seat of the cruiser, shutting the door quickly to seal in the heat that was blowing from the dashboard vents. He handed Rick a styrofoam cup of coffee and set his own in the center console before strapping on his seatbelt. "Merry Christmas. Sorry it ain't wrapped."

"Thanks," Rick chuckled, tipping the coffee cup up in appreciation.

"You been up since dawn?"

"Yeah, Carl was pretty excited and we had to get it all in before I left."

"So, how was it? Seeing her? Phillip wasn't with her was he, that son of a bitch?"

Rick took a long sip of his coffee and put the car in drive. "I didn't see her," he answered, avoiding Daryl's gaze as he turned the steering wheel, guiding them out of the parking lot of the police station and onto the main road.

"You left before she came to get Carl?" Daryl asked, surprised to hear this bit of information.

"Wasn't me she was there to see."

"So your mom was the one…" Daryl started to laugh at the thought. "Shit...oh that must've been a sight." He was practically doubled over now and even though Rick didn't find it particularly amusing, Daryl's laughter was catchy.

"I guess it probably was a little awkward," he offered, stifling his laugh.

"Rebeccah handing Carl off to Lori on Christmas morning, now ain't that a hallmark moment. Wish we had a picture."

Rick hadn't bothered to ask his mother to be nice when she saw his ex-wife for the first time since she left. There would have been no point. Rebeccah was never one to be impolite but something told him that exchange would probably be the exception. "Yeah...I'm sure Lori wasn't expecting it but, she could stand to be on the other side of a surprise for once."

Daryl nodded, taking in the lightness of Rick's tone. He seemed happier than Daryl was expecting from his friend on this holiday morning.

"Hey, Michonne's riding up with us to Tyrese's place next weekend. Figured we could save her from being third wheel with Andrea and Shane."

"Oh, yeah?" Daryl looked at the side of Rick's face as he drove. His cheeriness was starting to make sense.

"That ok?"

"Sure man, shouldn't be any third wheels on that ride," he snarked, taking another sip of his coffee while still staring at Rick.

"What's that mean?" Rick asked, pulling up to a stop light and turning to look at Daryl.

"Nothing, just you two have that thing you do when you're in a group of people, you know, where you get all consumed in your little conversations and your jokes and you can't hear nobody else when they're talkin' to you."

Rick looked at him quizzically. "We don't do that."

"Oh, ok. Must've imagined it," he snickered sarcastically.

Rick kept his sideward gaze at Daryl while he took off from his stop. "What are you talking about, man?"

"Nothing, hey, I'm not complaining. I'm glad to see you happy like that. Besides, Carl and I have some catching up to do so I probably wouldn't be talking to you much anyway."

Rick held back a smile and returned his eyes to the road. His friend was dropping some not so subtle hints lately about his friendship with Michonne and Daryl wasn't one to comment on other people's business. He was starting to wonder what the rest of the group was saying. He sighed thinking that he had once again found himself the subject of public speculation.


	11. Chapter 11

"I've got pretzels, Twizzlers and carrot sticks," Michonne listed as she pulled each snack out of the large tote bag she had on the floor in front of her. She was settled into the passenger side seat of Rick's SUV, at Daryl's insistence, and was turned over her shoulder toward Daryl and Carl, displaying the choices in a fan.

Daryl grabbed a bag of pretzels out of her hands as Carl reached for the Twizzlers. "Good call on inviting her, Rick," he said, eyeing his friend in the rearview mirror. Rick shook his head at him, remembering the ribbing he had taken for doing just that. They had been on the road an hour and a half and the two backseat passengers had already asked to stop once for what amounted to their second lunch. This was dessert.

"Carl, we are going to be there in 30 minutes and you know Karin has a big dinner planned tonight." Rick's words fell on deaf ears as Carl pulled a handful of candy out for himself then traded bags with Daryl.

"He's a growing boy," Michonne shrugged, taking a bite of one of the carrots that remained.

"Sure is," Rick scoffed, eyeing his son's reflection.

Winters in Georgia weren't cold by any means but, compared to the rest of the year, January had everyone bundled up. Rick had layered on a navy blue, henley style shirt with the top buttons undone and his bright, white t-shirt was poking through the top. Michonne couldn't help but notice the way it made his eyes look almost like they were glowing. She wondered how they could really be that blue. She'd met many people with the recessive trait but his were a hue all of their own. She also noticed he hadn't been keeping up with his razor again and his hair needed a trim, the ends looking like they had been set free to fulfill their dream of curling. She shook her head, feeling as if she had let her gaze linger too long and went back to her carrots. "You going rogue again?" she asked, between crunches. She gestured to his face while keeping her eyes straight ahead.

Rick eyed her with his head tilted to the side, not understanding her reference.

"Your face," she said while reaching a hand up to graze his cheek with the back of her hand. "It's losing the war."

Rick felt a trail of heat, where her hand had touched him, pulling his mouth into a smile. "The Sheriff is on vacation this week," he explained with a sly grin that made her belly flip just a little bit.

She averted her eyes back to the window, trying her best to study the mountainous terrain that they were traversing. She wasn't yet accustomed to the cocky side of Rick Grimes and she felt a warmth rising in her cheeks, despite her unwillingness to meet his gaze.

…

Michonne eyed the sign at the foot of the steep incline leading them to the row of vacation rentals nestled on the side of the mountain: "Welcome to The Hilltop". Despite the cold, she couldn't help but roll her window down and take in the crisp, fresh air. It smelled like the snow that was falling lightly from the sky and she sucked in a deep breath letting out all of the responsibilities of life as she released it. For the next 3 days, she was on vacation and she could not wait to relax and celebrate the New Year surrounded by friends. With the exception of Andrea, she hadn't even known these people last New Year's Eve but she couldn't think of anyone else she would rather be with.

Carl read the numbers on each building they passed out loud as they climbed the winding road. Each building was slightly different but they all maintained the same basic, dark wood and stone facade. When they had almost reached the summit he called out "712", recognizing the address of their destination and Rick slowed to take the turn into the driveway.

The home that Tyrese had secured for the occasion was actually two separate buildings, one large and one small, adjoined by a pergola that covered a stone patio, anchoring them to one another. The dual accommodations would be necessary as they were expecting almost 20 of them, including the kids, by the time everyone arrived. Michonne's head swiveled around as the car took the curve of the driveway, keeping her eyes on the mountains that rose behind the structures like apparitions out of the fog hanging low all around them.

The patio was set with a fireplace and chairs surrounding it, a large grill and a wide open view of the beauty that surrounded them. A light snow had been falling all morning and the air was cool enough here that it had remained on the ground, covering any grass that may have remained this late in the season. Small, white lights hung from the pergola and, though it was only mid afternoon, they cast a glow on the stone below like a spotlight directing them to the best spot in the house.

Pulling around the circular driveway they noticed many of their friends had already arrived. Glenn's car was parked at the beginning of the line, followed by Sasha's then Abraham's and then a black sports car they didn't recognize. Rick pulled into the spot behind the coupe and inwardly wondered about the driver's choice of vehicle for the slick roads he had just navigated.

"Hi guys!" Karin called, meeting them in the driveway as Rick got out and popped the tailgate to begin unloading their bags. She greeted Carl first, hugging him and admiring what seemed to be a growth spurt just since she had last seen him in October. After releasing him with the knowledge that Tim and Isaac were already inside, she turned to the adults and greeted them one by one. "You have to come see this place," she said excitedly, pulling Michonne away from the group.

Rick and Daryl grabbed their bags and the bags Michonne and Carl had left on their dash inside, and made their way around to the front door of the larger building where Karin had appeared. They climbed up three stairs and immediately heard the sound of laughter from the brightly lit room before them. A large, open living room with two brown, leather couches and some purposefully placed chairs, opened into a kitchen. There stood a table for 10 with a granite topped island offering additional seating. The living and dining areas were separated by a massive, floor to ceiling fireplace that was currently casting light and warmth over the large group that settled in various spots around the room, catching up with each other. A built in cabinet on one side of the living area had its doors open revealing the source of the background music that mixed with the happy chatter.

Maggie spotted them first and jumped up from the spot she had been occupying on the floor in front of the couch, careful not to spill her freshly poured glass of wine. "Hey! Look who's finally here," she chided. "Are the roads getting bad?"

"Nah, just had to stop a couple times," Rick answered, glancing at Daryl while embracing her.

They set the bags by the entry and went about the room greeting their friends who had already made themselves comfortable. Rick could hear Carl laughing with the other boys from a room upstairs and noticed Lizzy sitting at the kitchen island with a friend whom he hadn't met before. Glenn had handed he and Daryl beers when their tour had made its way to the kitchen and Daryl took his outside to smoke a cigarette before eyeing the rest of the accommodations.

Maggie, Sasha and Sasha's new boyfriend; Bob, were occupying one couch, while Abraham, Francine and Shane lounged on the other. Andrea was nowhere to be found at the moment but, Rick guessed she was wherever Karin had led Michonne off to. Tyrese stood at the stove stirring a large pot of what looked like marinara sauce and Rick came to stand beside him.

"I thought Karin was doing the dinner tonight?" he asked, peering into the pot.

"She's giving tours right now, stuck me on stirring duty." Tyrese pulled a spoonful of sauce out of the pot and up to his nose to breath in its aroma. "I can't take credit for this."

Rick nodded. It did smell divine. "Just tell me where you want us and I'll get those bags out of the way."

"Most of the bedrooms are in the other building. The boys all wanted to share one of the bunk rooms here if that's ok with you. I think Carl is up there now." He gestured to the stairs to their right.

"That's fine. I'm under no illusion he's here to spend time with me," Rick laughed as he finished his first beer quicker than he had intended.

"I put Abraham and Francine in this building and Karin and I are sharing the other room with the girls, so if you don't mind being in the opposite building as Carl, you can take whatever is left next door."

Rick nodded and started to turn toward the door when Karin reappeared followed by Andrea, Michonne and a man he didn't recognize.

"Hey, thanks for bringing my bag in," Michonne said, coming to stand next to Rick. "We were just checking out the other building. This place is huge!"

"Rick, this is our friend Mike," Karin said, gesturing to the man who stood beside her. He was tall with ebony skin and closely cropped hair and wore a white t-shirt that seemed too light for the current temperature. "He and Ty work together," she explained.

"Nice to meet you," Rick said, offering a handshake.

"You too." Mike answered with a large smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. "I appreciate you all having me. My plans for the holiday fell through last minute and Ty was nice enough to invite me."

"The more the merrier," Karin said happily.

"That your car out front?" Daryl asked, coming in from his smoke break. Mike confirmed the black Camaro they had spotted was his and he and Daryl turned to go back outside to check it out.

Once the two had closed the door behind them, Karin turned to Michonne and nudged her shoulder. "So, Mike is single," she said in a conspiratorial tone.

Michonne felt her cheeks flush at Karin's comment and stole a quick look at Rick while she deliberated on how to respond. She didn't want to have this conversation in front of him for reasons she couldn't quite place and was relieved when he took the opportunity to step away and grab the bags that were still laying on the floor near the door.

Rick wasn't sure how he felt when Karin decided to inform Michonne about Mike's relationship status but, he knew he didn't want to be a participant in the conversation. He had intended to busy himself but remain close enough to hear Michonne's response. Unfortunately, the conversation and music that filled the room, combined with Karin's hushed voice, made it impossible to eavesdrop. He picked up his and Carl's bags, hesitating at Michonne's, all of a sudden feeling self-conscious about carrying it for her.

"I'll grab it," Michonne said, noticing Rick tentatively reach for her bag. She gave Karin a small smile in lieu of a response to the information and came to the spot where Rick stood, picking up her bag. "Karin showed me what rooms were left next door. I'll show you."

Rick grabbed Daryl's bag for him and followed her down the steps and out into the fresh air. They crossed the patio and came around to the front of the building. Michonne opened the door where they found another small set of stairs matching the entry to the room they had just left. Climbing to the top, they entered a much smaller version of the living room where their friends were currently gathered. This one did not open into a kitchen like the other but, it had its own fireplace and a mini bar area with a refrigerator that looked like it could hold a couple of six-packs and snacks at most. There was a sliding glass door that led to a small landing that could be used to access the patio. It was as warm and inviting as its counterpart, just on a smaller scale. Most of the gathering was clearly meant to be done next door.

Crossing through the room, they came to a staircase and a small hallway that looked like it lead to one bedroom and a bathroom. "Maggie and Glenn took that room," Michonne pointed as she began to climb the stairs. When the reached the top they were looking straight into a laundry room with a hallway on each side of the landing. "Shane and Andrea," Michonne said, pointing left. "There is a bunk room next to them and one to the right. Bathrooms at the end of each hall. We figured girls in one and guys in the other." She looked to him for confirmation of the plan.

"Sounds good. Daryl's getting top bunk since I had to haul his bag," Rick smirked. "Which one is which?"

Michonne smiled, knowing that one of them was going to be stuck sharing a wall with Shane and Andrea's room. It clearly hadn't occurred to him yet so she pointed to her left. "That's you guys."

They parted ways, each retreating to their decided upon sleeping quarters. The two bunk rooms were identical, each containing a futon, which had been pulled out to create a full size bed, as well as a bunk bed with a full size bottom and a twin on top. Michonne threw her bag onto the bottom of the bunk set and snickered at the thought of Daryl climbing into the top bunk that matched it down the hall. She assumed Rick would choose to sleep below him, giving Mike the single bed to himself. That would be the considerate thing to do, so that is what Rick would do.

She sat down on her bunk and dug through her overnight bag on her lap, searching for her toothbrush and other toiletries so she could have easy access to them. She assumed she wouldn't want to be searching for them when she finally retired for the evening. Choosing a drawer in the dresser between the two beds, she shoved some clothes in, trying to consolidate so Rosita and Tara would each have their own once they arrived. Michonne was looking forward to sharing the room with them. She enjoyed both of their company and bunking with other women reminded her of some of her favorite nights hanging out and chatting with her college roommates in their tiny dorm room.

With a quick spritz of rose water on her wrists and a glance in the mirror at the state of her outfit after the long car ride, she found her way back to the hall to meet Rick for the walk back to the adjoining house. She was about to call his name when she saw Mike walking out of his room. "Oh, hey," she said, assuming that Rick had already left since Mike was leaning on the doorway, blocking any exit.

"Hey. I was just throwing my stuff in the boys dorm," he smirked. Michonne smiled at the reference given she was just making the same comparison. "I kinda assumed you would be sharing a room with one of these guys since you rode in together."

'That was smooth' Michonne thought. Karin obviously hadn't had the same talk with Mike regarding her lack of attachment and she was grateful for the woman's discretion. "No, we were just coming from the same place so we shared the ride," she said, feeling as though she was lying to him without meaning to.

"I see, well, I was about to head back. You comin'?" He nodded his chin toward the stairs and she turned to lead the way.

"So, what were your plans tonight? The ones that fell through," she asked, feeling him right behind her on the stairs.

"Oh, uh, I was flying to Vegas, actually. Meeting some friends. Ended up having to work on Monday so it wasn't worth making the trip only to have to leave a few hours after the ball dropped." He stepped ahead of her as they got to the bottom of the stairs and crossed the living room. He arrived at the front door ahead of her and held it open.

"Vegas? Wow. Hope the party here can hold your interest. You aren't exactly in for that kind of night with this group."

"Oh, my interest is already peaked," he said, letting his gaze wander up and down her as she passed by him to step outside.

Crossing the patio, Michonne opened the door to take the steps into the living room where their friends were gathered. The scent of the dinner that Karin and Tyrese were cooking invaded her lungs as she reached the landing and she paused to breath it in. Andrea appeared to her left, handing her a wineglass and Michonne stepped aside to let Mike pass by her to enter the room. To her surprise, he stopped beside her, still smiling.

"We were wondering where you were," Andrea said, filling her glass with the bottle of Merlot she held. She tipped the bottle at Mike, silently offering him some and he held his hand up to decline.

"I think I'll stick to beer," he said, finally moving on. Michonne watched him walk toward the kitchen and her eyes fell on Rick who was standing at the island talking with Shane. His eyes met hers but instead of holding her gaze just a little too long, as was his habit, he quickly looked back at Shane and took a sip from the bottle he was holding.

"Come on, you haven't met Bob yet. Sasha's new guy." Andrea pulled her by the arm to the set of couches and she took a seat in between Maggie and Sasha, awaiting her introduction.

…

The afternoon was spent in various states of relaxation. Some of the guys had taken the kids outside to throw the football around and most of the women had spent the time catching up with Karin, whom they rarely saw. A few of them had made a trip into town to pick up some more snacks and items to stock the bar.

By the time evening rolled around they had taken turns showering away their long car rides and afternoon laziness and changed into more festive attire. Well, most of them. Rick and Shane were wearing slightly less casual versions of their regular button down shirts and Abraham had put on a sweater adorned with two knitted reindeer fornicating, much to Francine's embarrassment. Daryl hadn't even tried, opting for a long sleeve t-shirt.

"Michonne!" Carl yelled as she emerged through the front door with Maggie, the two being the last to join the group after readying themselves in the adjoining building. "You have to come see this game!"

Michonne had chosen a pair of black, pointy heels this evening, rather than her comfortable boots. They showed off the top of her ankle where her tight, black pants came to a tapered end. A bright, red, silk top hung from cap sleeves on her shoulders, landing just below her backside, the color of the fabric matching her lipstick perfectly. Her hair was up and a dainty gold chain with the letter M nestled on her chest contrasting with the larger, more ornate gold baubles that hung from her ears. Most of her more elegant clothes had remained packed when she moved from the city to the sleepy town she now called home and she was delighted to have a reason to dress up. She quickly turned her attention to the kids who were gathered around the TV, taking turns playing a video game on the XBox that the home was furnished with.

"Oh my gosh, Carl! What is this?" She scrunched her face in disgust as she watched him manipulate the buttons on the controller to shoot what looked like a grotesquely animated zombie in the face. Virtual blood and guts sprayed all over the screen and the kids all cheered.

"It's awesome! Wanna play?"

She glanced over her shoulder at Rick to see if he was aware of the violent game his son was playing and found his gaze was already on her. She arched an eyebrow at him, tipping her head toward the screen in silent question but he just shrugged, giving her a lopsided smile. When she returned his grin his eyes dropped to her neck, then down her legs then back up to her face before he slowly turned his head back to Daryl who seemed to be saying something to both him and Shane.

"Uh, sure," she said, remembering Carl had asked her a question. "What do I have to do?" She took a seat on the couch between Carl and Isaac and they both explained to her what each of the buttons on the controller should be used for. Glenn had found his way over to the TV as well and was already calling the next game.

Rick was listening to Daryl rant about the time the Sheriff had insisted he wear a suit to a dinner celebrating the culmination of a case he had been involved in but, his attention kept drifting back to Michonne. She looked like she belonged at a fancy restaurant, sipping cocktails made with top shelf liquor yet, she currently sat on her knees on the floor violently tapping at the game controller in her hands and laughing as she handily defeated Glenn in a bout of zombie killing. He was taken by her appearance, as he figured most of the men in the room were. Especially Mike who apparently also had an affinity for video games given his close proximity to the match. More than that, though, he was enthralled by her happiness. Her laughter captivated him as she seemed fully immersed in her current task with no other thoughts besides the joy of the moment. He wondered what it was like to feel that buoyant. He got a taste of it every time she was around him, her smile pulling his own mouth upward without even trying. Her lightness was drawing him like a moth to a flame as he considered how heavy everything had been for him for so long.

"Rick," Shane called, pulling him back to the conversation he was supposed to be a part of.

"Yeah," he replied, snapping out of his thoughts.

"What's the name of that restaurant that Lori made us go to in the city? Where they had the dress code and such?"

"I don't remember," he said, standing from his stool and making his way toward the living room to get a better look at her. Just as he arrived Michonne jumped up, holding the controller over her head, and cheered as Glenn collapsed onto the couch behind him with a loud groan. Carl and the other boys were laughing uncontrollably and Maggie stood from the chair she had been occupying to offer her condolences to her boyfriend.

"That was impressive," Mike complemented with an exaggerated, slow clap.

"Thanks," she smiled, handing the controller to Carl. "I'm done, though. I need a drink."

"Me too," Glenn said, pulling himself back up to standing. "Losers pour. I'll be right back." He motioned for her to take a seat and she and Maggie settled into the couch opposite the boys who were setting up the next match.

"One more, guys," Rick called. "It's almost dinner time." The kids all nodded as Rick took a seat next to Maggie. Mike settled on the arm of the couch next to Michonne.

"Wouldn't have pegged you for the video game type," Mike grinned down at Michonne from his perch. "You showed these kids how it's done."

"I've never even held a controller before. I just have a bit of a competitive streak and Glenn was a little too sure he was going to beat me," Michonne said proudly.

"Well, you certainly put him in his place," Maggie laughed, genuinely amused at how easily she had beat Glenn.

"After seeing that dart game the other day, I'm surprised you're such a good shot," Rick said, smiling as he took a sip of the beer.

Michonne's lips curled into a grin of her own. "I really don't think you can hold that game against me, I was just warming up."

"Warming up by tossing all your darts onto the floor?" he laughed, tilting his head the way he always did when he was challenging something.

She tilted her own head, mirroring his signature squint and leaned around Maggie to make eye contact with him. "Apparently, you don't remember our epic beer pong battle," she chided. "I can't be good at everything."

"You just need a little practice. Next time we're at Morgan's I'll show you how to keep your darts out of the wall."

"Oh, boy," Maggie sighed, sinking farther into the couch as her two friends conversed across her.

"Listen Grimes, I'm up for a rematch anytime."

Rick's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Well, you were playing the kid if you remember," he smiled, gesturing to Carl. "But, you're on, if you think that's wise."

"Why? You nervous?"

"Not at all." He took another sip, not letting his eyes drop from hers.

Before Michonne could offer a retort, Karin announced that dinner was ready and Maggie used the opportunity to extricate herself from the middle of their conversation. She stood, leading the way to the large table in the dining room where everyone took their seats.

A/N Sorry this chapter ends in sort of a weird place. The next part of the story was getting sooooo long that I had to pick a place to cut it or I'd never get more posted. Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Ok, guys. I rushed to get this chapter edited so I could post this note lol. Thanks so much for the reviews!  
RBGzmom and zeejack, I promise there will be no love triangle lol and you won't hate where the Mike thing goes. All I'm going to say is Mike wouldn't be happy if he knew his real purpose. This is the last chapter that I have finished. I've been editing and posting while working on new chapters. Now I have to actually finish writing the next ones! I'm stuck on the current one but I'll finish it and post it as soon as I can make it right in my brain :-). PS can someone please tell me if the new chapter notifications are working again?**

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"That dinner was amazing, guys," Shane exclaimed, leaning back in his chair and resting a hand on his full belly. "Your mama cook like that for you every night?" He turned over his shoulder to address the kitchen island where Lizzy sat with the other kids.

"She sure does, Mr. Walsh," Lizzy smiled proudly.

"Sure beats take out pizza," Carl sighed as the other young boys gave him a quizzical look, wishing they had a large pepperoni right in front of them for dessert.

"Alright," Rick replied, waving his hand at him as he stood to take his plate into the kitchen.

Tara grabbed her plate and empty glass and followed Rick to the kitchen while the rest of the group remained cemented to their seats by their stuffed stomachs. She and Rosita had arrived just before they all sat down for the large Italian feast Karin had prepared and they were still catching up to their friends on their wine consumption.

"So, Bob," Abraham started. "How do you like Glenn's old shift? Seem to be pretty comfortable with your new partner." Glenn had recently been promoted to the day time shift, much to Maggie's delight, but it had left Sasha without a partner. Bob had taken his place and the rest was history. "Just make sure you two are changing the sheets on those cots in the back of the ambulance on the regular." He laughed heartily at his own joke while the rest of them rolled their eyes.

Francine groaned at her husband hiding her face with her hand at his lack of decorum. "The kids are right there, Abe."

"Best shift change I've ever taken, my man," Bob said, ignoring Abe's innuendo and slinging an arm around a smiling Sasha. The relationship was new but the two of them behaved like they had been together forever; as if they had known each other in some other life. "I'm chalking it up to fate with a little help from the scheduling supervisor." He tipped his water glass to Abraham. Despite his attempt at embarrassing his friends, everyone could see Abe was proud of himself for unwittingly pairing the two for much more than their shift.

"Funny how things work out like that," Mike interjected. "Last minute changes ending up putting you right where you were supposed to be." His eyes were openly lingering on Michonne who was sitting to his right and she quickly took a sip of her wine to try to hide her cheeks which were once again flushed.

Michonne glanced around the table, catching a few glances from Maggie and Andrea who had obviously noticed Mike's forward comment and open stare. Daryl was seated across from her and he was casually leaning back in his chair, eyes passing between her and Mike without saying a word.

Tara opened another bottle of wine in the kitchen while keeping an ear on the conversation at the table. She turned to Rick who seemed to be doing the same while scraping his plate into the trash. He looked up from his task to find Tara staring at him, one eyebrow raised in question.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing" she said, deciding she must be out of the loop on something if this new guy was blatantly hitting on Michonne right in front of Rick. She was certain Rick and Michonne would be an item by now, since the last time she saw them they had been inseparable most of the day. She decided to ask Maggie and Glenn for the scoop later. "What's the plan now, guys?" she asked, making her way back to the table. "Should I start pouring shots?"

"Well, there are board games and the fire pit and stuff to make s'mores and there is a pool table in the downstairs rec room." Karin listed off the activities like a cruise director, gesturing to specific people who she thought would enjoy each option.

"I'll get the s'mores stuff!" Sasha jumped up excitedly.

"You know how to play?" Mike turned to Michonne while everyone was busy clearing the table. Michonne gave him a confused look. "Pool. You wanna shoot a game?"

"Come on, we're heading down," Maggie said, overhearing their conversation and wanting her friend to join them. "Rick, Daryl, come play," she beckoned to the two men who were trading their empty beer bottles for a bottle of scotch at the bar.

"I ain't playin' Pictionary," Daryl said. "Let's go."

Rick looked over at Carl and the rest of the kids, still sitting at the island, drinking sodas and laughing over some joke the adults had missed.

"I'll set up a movie for them," Francine offered. "Go ahead."

Seeing that Carl was entertained, Rick followed Daryl downstairs where Maggie, Glenn, Michonne, Mike, Tara and Rosita had gathered.

The rec room spanned the length of the upstairs living room and kitchen combined, with a large brick pillar in the center where the fireplace was directly above them. There were two pub style tables and a couch situated along one wall and a stereo system on the other. The room was lit only by the hanging light above the pool table and Michonne could already feel herself getting drowsy from the carbohydrate loaded dinner and the many glasses of wine. The cozy ambiance wasn't helping. She opted for a hard bar stool instead of the couch to help her stay awake.

Rosita made her way over to the stereo and turned it on, adjusting the volume and scrolling through the satellite stations for something upbeat. "So, how are we doing this?" she called over her shoulder. "Doubles?"

Glenn did a quick survey of the room, noting that he and Maggie were the only couple, and he ran through the possible pairings that could come out of the remaining players. He found Mike, still hovering around Michonne and Rick still pretending not to notice and decided to take the reigns. "How about girls against guys?" he suggested, thinking that would be the safest play. "Me and Rick, Mike and Daryl and you girls pair off however you want. We'll flip for first game." He grabbed a quarter out of his pocket as the women paired off. Michonne decided to partner with Tara and they gave Maggie and Rosita the first game without needing a coin toss.

Mike and Daryl won the coin toss for the men and Mike began racking the balls. Rick found his way to the table that Michonne was sitting at and helped himself into the seat across from her.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hey," he replied, setting his rocks glass down next to her wine and giving her a lazy smile.

His eyes were giving away the several drinks he had already partaken in and she smiled at the sight of his heavy lids. She had been out with Rick numerous times when they had been drinking but there was always some reason he had to take it easy. Tonight, with Carl taken care of and no where to drive, he was allowing himself to get past the threshold and was sufficiently buzzed. She, however, was having a hard time overcoming dinner with just her wine and she reached over to his drink, wrapping her fingers around the glass. "You mind?" she asked, before putting the glass to her lips.

"Not at all," he answered, finally holding her gaze the way she was used to. She took a long sip of his scotch, letting the liquid burn her throat as she swallowed. The sensation caused her to immediately cough, eliciting a hearty laugh from Rick. "I don't know why you always do that. You never like it." His drawl was thick as the alcohol slowed his words and she found herself wanting to hear more of it.

She cleared her throat and took a sip of her wine to chase the fire away. "The wine wasn't cutting it."

Daryl settled in to take a shot with Rosita and Tara both perched beside him offering their best trash talk while Maggie and Glenn conferred over her next move. Mike looked back over his shoulder at the tables and noticed Michonne's face scrunched into a frown at the taste of Rick's scotch. He wandered over, setting his own drink on the table they shared, his eyes squarely on her. "I hope that face isn't because of this disastrous match," he said with a wide grin. They had made it through one round and only Rosita had made a shot so far.

Rick shuffled in his seat, suddenly deciding to pay attention to the shot his partner was attempting. Watching him turn away, Michonne supposed she was participating in the conversation by herself. "No," she responded. "It was...nothing," she laughed, not feeling the need to invite him into the previous moment with Rick. "Rosita seems to be carrying the game, though."

"It's early," he said, still grinning, as he turned his gaze back to the pool table. He leaned back resting his elbow on the back of Michonne's chair.

Daryl sank his shot easily, turning to Rosita with a challenging smirk as her taunting ceased. The two had slipped easily into their flirty friendship once the alcohol was flowing and their banter was amusing the group, especially Tara who was giggling loudly.

Michonne looked back at Rick, who was giving Daryl a low five and laughing at Tara. She smiled at his contentedness. She started to say something to him when Mike interrupted, "Can I get you a refill?" he asked, gesturing to her empty wineglass.

"Oh...you're almost up," she said, noting Maggie was about to take her shot and he would be next.

"I'll get it," Daryl said, overhearing the conversation and brushing past Mike to grab her wine glass. He headed up the stairs. "I'll check Carl, too," he called over his shoulder to Rick who nodded a thanks.

Mike looked briefly dejected at the missed opportunity but he quickly regained his confidence and strode over to the table to scout his next move as Maggie finished. He called his shot and easily sank it, turning back to Michonne with a self assured smile. A vision of the cocky grin that Rick had given her in the car appeared in her head and she noticed Mike's confidence was a little less endearing somehow. She instantly chided herself for comparing them. Mike was fun and clearly enjoying her company. He certainly wasn't hard to look at, with his ebony biceps contrasting against the tight white sleeves of his t-shirt and his dark eyes that seemed to always be smiling. She quickly glanced at Rick who had his back turned to her now and then returned Mike's smile.

...

Daryl came around the corner to the kitchen, after stopping briefly to chat with Carl and the other kids about the movie they were watching. He grabbed the bottle of wine Michonne was drinking and his own bottle of scotch and set them on the kitchen island to refill both of their glasses. Andrea stood, back to him, rustling around in the refrigerator and turned to greet him when she heard him come in.

"How's the game going?" she asked, offering him a s'more from the plate she had been trying to fit into the fridge.

He gave her a frown at the suggestion and continued pouring. S'mores didn't exactly mix with the hard liquor he was enjoying. "Game's fine. Your little plan ain't going so well, though."

"What do you mean?" Andrea asked, shutting the fridge and turning to give him her full attention. She was pretty sure she knew what Daryl was referring to but was surprised that he taking it upon himself to give her an update.

"Mike sure seems to have taken a liking to 'Chonne." He used his fingers to pick a couple of ice cubes out of the silver bucket that sat on the island, dropping them in his glass.

"Don't put that back yet," Abraham interrupted, appearing at the door and joining them in the kitchen. He gestured to the bottle Daryl was finished with and held out his glass as Daryl poured one more.

"Hmm," Andrea breathed, continuing their conversation. She was considering the pros and cons of this new information where her plan for Michonne and Rick was concerned.

"You gonna do something about it?" Daryl asked her as Abraham turned away and opened the fridge for his own search. Daryl hated that he was giving up his neutral position in this situation but if Rick wasn't going to help himself then he would be forced to participate.

"And what would you have me do, Dixon?"

"Talk to your girl."

"And tell her what? That even though Rick hasn't made a single move she should ignore the funny, handsome, single guy who seems to like her, just in case?" She leaned back against the counter pointing her s'more at him as she challenged.

"Hey, forget it," he said, uninterested in debating with her. "I just thought you would want to know." He turned then to head back to his game and deliver his drinks.

"Wait," she called sharply, grabbing Daryl's elbow and capturing Abraham's attention again. "Does this mean you're on board? You're going to help?"

"I ain't helping. I'm just telling you what's going on. Do what you want with it."

"Fine. Thanks for the information," she said, dropping her grip on him and watching him leave.

"I'm assuming that was about Rick being an idiot when it comes to Michonne?" Abraham interjected, reminding Andrea that he had heard the whole conversation.

"It is."

Abe shook his head, "For a pretty smart guy, he can be pretty stupid." He grabbed his drink and headed back out the door, leaving Andrea with her thoughts.

...

The next few rounds went quickly after Daryl returned with the drinks. The men easily defeated the women; Maggie having had a pretty poor showing, but laughing just the same. Glenn and Rick took their spots at the side of the table after choosing their sticks and chalking the ends in preparation. Tara joined them and Michonne racked the balls.

"Good luck," Rick called to Michonne, with a devilish grin. His comment surprised her since he seemed to have slipped back into avoiding her when Mike had joined their table. His eyelids were heavy from the alcohol and she could tell he was feeling good.

She smiled sweetly at him as she broke the rack of balls sending them scattered evenly around the table, sinking an even numbered ball.

"Nice break," Mike called from the stool he was perched upon. He tipped his glass toward her and she smiled setting up to take her next shot. She could feel Mike's eyes on her as she bent over the table and she straightened just a bit, despite the shift causing her angle to be off.

Michonne missed the easy shot and defeatedly walked away, conceding the table to Glenn. She swayed just slightly as she turned the corner, coming to stand in front of Rick. The scotch was hitting her and she was glad she had switched back to wine.

"It started out so well," Rick teased as he pat her shoulder in an effort to be comforting. His hand felt warm against her bare skin as he let it linger and Michonne leaned back to steady herself, resting against his chest.

Glenn had cleared most of their balls during his turn earning him cheers from Daryl and Rosita who had settled onto the couch. Maggie opened her arms, welcoming him to come stand between her knees as she sat on the stool opposite Mike.

"Where's my cheering section?" Tara kidded as she set up to take her shot.

"They want to support the winning team. Can you blame 'em?" Rick said, letting his hand drop from Michonne as he reached for his cue. He didn't expect Tara's turn to take very long and he wasn't disappointed as she made her first shot only to miss the second.

He strode toward the table to claim his spot and Michonne regarded his bow legged strut that she jokingly referred to as his 'Officer Grimes' walk. She did like the sight of him walking away and she was just buzzed enough to allow herself the indulgence of watching. Rick playfully nudged Tara out of the way and stood, hands on hips, surveying the table.

Taking her spot as a spectator again, Tara came to stand next to Michonne and was about to apologize for the miss when she noticed her partner lost in her gaze. She snickered to herself at how obvious her two friends were and was again about to speak when Mike appeared at the other side of Michonne.

"You doing ok?" he smirked, noting the way her wineglass tipped haphazardly in her hand. He reached for it before it started to spill.

"I am," Michonne answered, glancing at the time and seeing they still had two hours until Midnight. "I need a break, though. Gotta save up my energy to ring in the New Year." Rick had cleared the rest of his balls save for the eight ball and she assumed the game was about to end.

"What's your plan for tomorrow?" he asked as he turned his body toward her, resting an arm on the wall behind them. She breathed in his cologne which smelled like expensive suits and sports cars. Again her brain made the comparison to the scent of Rick's shirt when she had leaned against him; soap and a slight note of fresh outdoor air.

"I haven't thought that far ahead," she explained. She was already concerned about how she was going to feel in the morning and she didn't want to box herself into a plan just yet. "I'm trying not to do the schedule thing this weekend."

"You'll probably be hungover, anyway," Tara chimed in. "I know my day isn't starting until noon."

Michonne didn't get a chance to retort as the room erupted in a cacophony of cheers and groans as Rick ended the game by banking the black ball across the table and sinking it in the corner pocket. He turned over his shoulder at Michonne and repeated the grin she had just been remembering. She could definitely get used to this side of Rick.

"I'm done," Rosita declared, rising from the couch and stretching her arms over head. "I think we need to get the real party started." She made her way back to the stereo and turned up the music then recruited Daryl to go upstairs with her and gather the rest of their group.

"Two more hours until a new year!" Maggie exclaimed, watching the two leave and settling into a bar stool. "I wonder what the next one will bring."

"You wonder that every year," Tara laughed as she claimed the seat beside her. "I say a million things could happen in 365 days so why even speculate."

"That's for sure," Rick joined in, claiming the couch for himself. They all fell silent for a moment, reflecting on the year that their friend was finishing. The next day would mark one year since Rick was shot. He was never one to grade his years as good or bad. He liked to think you could always find happy moments and sad moments in life and the date on the calendar had little to do with the actual passing of time when you took in the whole of someone's experiences. This past year had put that theory to the test however, and he was starting to think that if he were to judge his life January to December, this past year would definitely go down as a bad one.

Mike looked around at the faces in the room that had all gone somber, wondering what collective memory he wasn't privy to. Sensing it wasn't one anyone wanted to recount, he quietly waited for someone else to break the silence.

"Maybe it's not worth speculating on the future," Michonne finally said, staring over at Rick who seemed lost in his thoughts. "But we can always hope for a good one."

"Cheers to that," Tara said, reaching her cocktail over to where Rick sat and nudging him with her knee. He lightly clinked her bottle with his glass and his smile returned.

"Y'all fall asleep down here?" Shane bellowed as he trotted down the staircase, carrying three bottles of booze which he promptly arranged on the small counter on the far end of the rec room. "Rosita said this was where the party was happening."

Rick sat up straight, moving to one side of the couch as Shane dropped down beside him. "We're just waiting on you," Rick replied.

Andrea and Rosita came down the stairs next, followed by Abraham and Tyrese who were both carrying plates full of food. "Boys were hungry again so we gave 'em some snacks," Abraham said to Rick as he picked through the leftovers he was carrying. "These are for us." He sat the plate down next to Shane's makeshift bar and made his way over to the pool cues that Rick and Glenn had just replaced.

The rest of them had made their way to the rec room, save for Karin, Francine, Sasha and Bob who remained by the fire pit, enjoying the fresh air a bit longer. Another pool game had broken out between Ty, Abraham, Daryl and Glenn, drawing some spectators. Michonne took a seat at the open table beside Maggie and Tara and was quickly joined by Mike who slid into the chair beside her.

"So, how do you know everyone?" he asked her, mostly hoping to get a read on her relationship with the other single men in the group. Her closeness with Rick was as obvious to him as it was to their friends and he wanted to get a feel for his competition.

"Andrea and I have been friends since college," she said, gesturing to her blonde friend who was dancing with Rosita to the now even louder music. "I met everyone else through her. I just moved to town and they all sort of took me in." She glanced over at Rick while she spoke and Mike caught the intimation.

"Seems like a close group," he replied. He was leaning on his forearms now, inching forward across the table as if to illustrate the proximity he was describing. "It's certainly an eclectic mix, though."

She looked around the room, noting his observation. Abraham was laughing boisterously, performing what could only be described as an attempt at dancing, while Daryl leaned casually against the wall, his face void of any indication as to his level of enjoyment. The men were polar opposites on the outside yet consonant in their vigilant loyalty and protectiveness when it came to their friends. Tara, Maggie and Glenn, the youngest members of the group, were pouring shots and tapping a beat with them on the table before downing them in unison. Their youthful optimism was pervasive, always reminding their more aged friends that time was to be enjoyed, not just passed. Shane now had an arm around Andrea and Rosita, taking them both as dance partners, all three reveling in the ceremony of the night. She finally settled on Rick, who was now sharing the couch with Tyrese. He held his glass in his lap with one hand, his other lay casually across the back of the couch. His mouth was smiling but his eyes held an intensity he was rarely without, as if he was carrying on a pleasant conversation while, simultaneously, fighting off an army of invisible demons. Tonight the alcohol had massaged his body into a state of ease, she noticed. His shoulders were lax and his head was tilted back slightly. Mike was right, their personalities spanned the gamut but they all shared a common thread of decency and loyalty that bound them together.

Before she could finish her thought she felt Mike's hands on hers as he hopped down from the stool. "Looks like the party is over there," he said, pulling her to a standing position. "Come on." He lead her by the hand, across the room to the spot her friends had designated as the dance floor. A large grin hung on his face as he let one hand slip to her waist and continued holding the other.

Michonne couldn't help but giggle as he swayed to the beat of the sugary pop song, surprising her by singing along to the chorus. Maggie and Glenn had joined them and Tara was making her way over to Daryl, dancing enthusiastically in front of him as he pretended not to notice her. The pool game had come to a standstill, much to Daryl's irritation, as Abraham and Glenn were drawn into the revelry.

"Who needs Vegas?" Michonne kidded as Mike lifted her hand and guided her around in a twirl beneath his outstretched arm.

"Not me," Mike said softly. Michonne could feel her cheeks flush again and she turned away hoping he wouldn't notice. As she turned, she caught sight of Rick who was heading up the stairs and her smile fell. Where was he going, she wondered. There was one hour until the new year and she hoped he wasn't thinking of retiring for the night.

"I need to use the ladies room," Michonne lied as the fast beat of the song ended and a soft, familiar guitar riff ushered in a slower melody. "I'll be back." She placed a hand on Mike's chest hinting that he should stay, and made her way up the stairs after grabbing her empty wine glass.

She found Rick leaning his arms on the back of the couch where Carl and his friends were settled into their movie. It looked to be some horror movie and Rick had his face scrunched incredulously at what he was seeing on the screen.

"Hey, I was wondering where you went," Michonne said as she came to stand behind him. Her voice was hushed as not to disturb the kids.

"Figured I'd come check on Carl. You think Karin and Ty know the girls are watching this?" he asked, nodding at Lizzy and her friend who were hiding under a blanket as a man with a baseball bat terrorized a group of people on the screen.

"Doubt it," she replied. "Hey, I heard there were still some s'mores left outside." Michonne whispered conspiratorially to the two frightened girls. They looked at each other and then quickly headed for the door, seemingly grateful for the excuse. Rick smiled at her quick thinking and she gave him a shoulder shrug before heading to the kitchen to pour the last few drops of wine into her glass. When she returned to the darkened living room, Rick had settled onto the vacant couch the girls had left, his legs stretched out before him and his arms crossed behind his head. She crossed the space between them before slipping her heels off and dropping down beside him, pulling her knees up underneath her.

"Carl, what is this movie?" Rick asked, his eyes wide at the scene that was playing out before him.

"Shhhh. Dad!" Carl grumbled. All of the boys faces were glued to the screen and Rick looked over to see Michonne's was too. She held her wine glass in both hands just underneath her chin as if she had frozen mid sip, too engrossed to complete her task.

The man on the screen was taunting the group of prisoners using a morbid version of a kid's nursery rhyme. "This guy is ridiculous," Rick interrupted again, earning him a chorus of groans from the three boys and a swat from Michonne who was fully engaged in the plot now. Sighing he settled farther into the couch. He hadn't intended on staying long enough to catch the end of this movie but Michonne wasn't making any moves to go back downstairs so, he couldn't think of any reason why he should leave that spot.

 **...**

"10...9...8..." Rick was startled awake by his friend's voices from the room below. Realizing he must have fallen asleep, he looked over to the screen, glad to see the movie they were watching was over and a myriad of animated, yellow aliens were now dancing around on the screen. "7...6...5…" The boys across from him were all passed out as well. He looked to his left to see Michonne curled up in the corner of the couch, her head resting on her hand and her bare feet nestled underneath his leg. He rested his hand on her knee, gently pushing it back and forth to wake her. "4...3...2…" Her eyes popped open as the voices below them got louder. "1."

"Happy New Year," he whispered in unison with the raucous chorus below them. Her eyes were still full of sleep as she met his, a large grin spreading on her face.

"Happy New Year," she replied. "I think we missed the party." She pulled her feet back toward her as she pushed back up onto her knees and Rick instantly missed the warmth.

"Sounds like it's still going on," he shrugged, hearing Abraham's rowdy laughter floating up the stairs. "You wanna go back?"

She looked over at the sleeping boys and then back at him. "Not particularly. Do you?"

"Not particularly," he echoed, looking down at his hands sitting in his lap. She tipped her head to the side resting it on the back of the couch, still smiling at him and he shifted onto his hip, turning his upper body toward her. He was staring at her with a pensive look as if he was trying to find a missing puzzle piece. "What were you doing last year at this time?" His voice was raspy, the short nap having done little to sober him.

She sighed, trying to remember. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She twirled a loc of hair in her fingers as she conjured the memory. "I was on a rooftop, looking out over the city," she recalled. "I was wearing an extremely expensive dress, sipping champagne and not even remotely tired." She started to laugh and yawned instead, as if on cue.

He laughed for the both of them, fighting his own yawn. His eyes darted around her face as he tried to picture her story, focusing on what her dress might have looked like. He imagined it was short, black, probably sparkly as she would have chosen something festive for the occasion.

"I'd ask you what you were doing, but I already know," she said quietly.

He dropped his head back into the couch cushion, breaking his eye contact. He was working an overnight shift, completely unaware his life was about to change. Normally, he avoided talking about that morning at all costs but tonight he felt like telling her, for some reason. "At this time last year I was sitting in our patrol car with Daryl, doing absolutely nothing...and I was exhausted." They laughed together at his comparison. "A couple of hours from then, though, I got to sleep for two months, so I made up for it."

Michonne tried to laugh at his joke but her frown wouldn't let her. The humor in his voice was encouraging but she couldn't feel anything but sadness when she thought of him that way. He had never spoken to her about it and she understood why but, she had gotten bits and pieces from the others. Enough to know she may have never met him if things had turned out any different. She reached her hand out and lay it atop of his and was surprised when he continued talking.

"Truth is I don't really remember much about it; the actual event. I remember thinking it had been a boring night. I remember hearing the call, seeing the car fly by us, flipping on the sirens and speeding down the back roads then, cresting the hill and seeing the car on its side. I don't really remember any pain, just the heat. It was just hot liquid pouring down my chest and leg." His free hand brushed against his chest as if he expected to feel the wetness he was remembering.

Michonne tightened her hand on his as she listened. She was sure he had recounted the story before. She knew he had been required to see a counselor after it happened but, as she listened to the words tumble from his mouth, it felt like they had been trapped inside him this whole time and were finally breaking free. "What else?" she asked, quietly urging him on.

"Abe was yelling at me," he said with a muted laugh. "I remember seeing his gloves and Daryl's shirt covered in blood and wondering if it was mine. I was laying there, staring up at Daryl, picturing him telling Lori and Carl I was dead."

Her breath hitched at his words, hot tears welling in her eyes. She imagined herself on that rooftop again, dancing, celebrating until the early hours of the morning. She had been making career goals for the new year and he had been trying to survive long enough to see it. She had no idea then what would become of her plans and he had no idea he would wake up to a different life than he had fallen asleep to. Now, here they both sat, twelve months later, enjoying a vastly different evening than either would have imagined. Tara was right, the future was unforeseeable but, maybe when they had hoped for a good one, this was them getting it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, noticing her wet eyes. "I didn't mean to put that on you."

"Don't be sorry," she said firmly. "I wanted to hear it."

His face forced a smile. "We're supposed to be celebrating."

The music downstairs had once again overtaken the voices and he imagined the party below them was slowing down. She let go of his hand and brushed her knuckles across his stubbled cheek before turning her attention to the sleeping boys across from them. Carl lay on the floor with his head propped up against the couch where the other two were sprawled out. "I think they have the right idea. I think it's bedtime."

Rick smiled, following her gaze. "I guess I should put him in his bunk. Hope he didn't choose the top one."

She laughed at the thought of Rick climbing the ladder to the bunk bed in his state of inebriation. "Do you want some help?"

"No, you look like you're about to fall asleep again. Go to bed. I'll see you in the morning." He bit his lower lip as the words come out of his mouth. He liked the way it sounded. He let his eyes fall on her mouth for a brief second before slowly standing.

"Ok," she said, still grounded to her seat. "Goodnight."

Rick and Michonne were still staring their goodbyes when Rosita, Tara and Mike appeared at the top of the stairs. "We're calling it a night," Rosita announced, pulling Michonne's attention away from Rick's eyes. "You guys coming?"

Michonne stood from the couch, slipping her shoes back on and turned toward the group. "I was just about to head back."

"Walk with us", Mike said, extending an arm to usher her way. She passed him and his hand landed on the small of her back as she fell into step with them.

Rick watched them file down the short set of steps, keeping his eyes on Michonne until she disappeared out the door. He sighed, walking over to Carl and surveying the best way to get him into his bed. He squatted down as low as he could to the floor and positioned his arms under the boy's shoulders and knees contracting his biceps as he stood. His son was heavier than he remembered and he realized he hadn't had the occasion to carry him in a very long time. Despite his proper lifting form, he felt the strain in his back as he hoisted Carl over his shoulder and let out a groan.

"You gonna make it?" Abe chuckled as he crested the staircase and joined Rick at the site of the boys slumber. The larger man set his hands on his hips, mentally calculating if he could lift both of his own boys at the same time or would have to make two trips.

"I got it. You know who goes where?"

Abe settled on taking his youngest in first and lifted him under the shoulders in a bear hug, his head flopping to the side as he rose. These boys weren't waking up even if the world was ending. "Follow me." He lead the way upstairs to the boys bunk room, which looked exactly like the one Rick was staying in.

Rick was again forced to confront the change in his place in the group since his wife had left. He had spent the early evening playing pool and doing shots with the single members of the group, save for Glenn and Maggie, while most of the couples sat, huddled under blankets, quietly conversing around the fire. Now, he was about to retire to a bunk bed with Daryl and a guy he had just met, camping out like a bunch of teenagers. He shook his head as he started to play out what the evening would have been like had Lori been there; he didn't want to ruin his buzz.

Abe tossed his son onto the top bunk effortlessly and Rick was secretly glad he had chosen that spot as Carl was getting heavier by the minute. He gently laid his son on the bottom bunk, deciding Abe's oldest should get his own bed. He pulled the covers up over Carl and turned to leave just as Abraham appeared with Isaac, tossing him onto the futon with a little more effort. He watched as his friend brushed the hair out of Isaac's face and pulled the covers up over him just as Rick had done with Carl. Not everything had changed, he thought, He was still a father and, while his company for the night was probably in various states of passing out across the way, he and Abe were taking care of their responsibilities before they could retire.

When Abe was done, they quietly exited the room, closing the door behind them, and headed back to the living room to pick up the plates and glasses the kids had left behind.

Rick knelt down and started to fold a blanket that Carl had been lying on. "Looks like they were having a good time," he sighed. "How was the champagne toast?"

"You think I got any with Andrea and Maggie around?" he joked. "Nice night though. Ty did good with this place."

"He did."

"How was the pool game? I only took about two shots before the room turned into a dance club. I may have to challenge you men tomorrow night."

"It was good. Not much competition, Glenn and I against Michonne and Tara."

Abraham guffawed. "Who chose those teams?"

"Glenn," Rick smirked. He knew his friend was trying to be helpful by suggesting the team breakdown but had inadvertently stacked the odds in his own favor.

"So, speaking of competition, seems you got some of your own, outside of the game."

Rick stopped stacking plates and squinted at the back of Abe's head. "What's that mean?"

"Michonne and Ty's buddy," he answered, still busy with the mess and not bothering to look at Rick. "She has caught his eye, that's very clear."

"And you think that should bother me?" Rick remarked, trying not to sound concerned.

"You sayin' it don't? Cause you two been up here awhile now but, he's still walking her home."

Rick lifted the stack of plates he had gathered and turned toward the kitchen retreating from Abe and the conversation.

Abe let out a little chuckle and followed him, grabbing a couple glasses on his way. "Rick, I'd like to say it ain't my business but I didn't save your life so you could wallow around with your tail between your legs, missing opportunities that are right in front of your face."

Rick gave Abe a hard look. Between the darkness of the room and the alcohol that was making his head swim he couldn't tell if Abraham was actually intending to collect on a debt right now.

Abe could see his friend's confusion and he laughed again, even louder. Rick was always so dutiful, ready to accept his fate if Abraham decided he owed him something. "All I'm saying," he started, throwing an arm around Rick's shoulder and lowering his voice despite their seclusion, "She's already your girl. You just don't know it yet." He left his friend with a hard pat on the back and turned toward his bedroom, disappearing inside with a click of the door.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N Thanks again for all of the reviews. I get so excited when I read them :-). And thanks to those of you who recommended this story on other sites! I'm really flattered!**

 **I think, maybe the notifications are back? I got one today. Anyway, hope you like this chapter. I also wanted to apologize for some egregious comma errors in previous chapters. It's been a long time since I have written anything and punctuation was never my strong suit. I'm trying to catch them all in my editing going forward.**

 **xxxx**

Michonne lifted her head from the pillow and winced in pain. Her head was pounding and her mouth felt like a desert. After blinking a few times to acclimate to the brightness of her bunk room, she checked the bed across from her to find Rosita missing and the covers neatly tucked back in place on her bed. The clock on her phone showed 8 A.M., much later than she was used to rising.

Pulling herself slowly from the mattress, she searched out the bottle of water she remembered taking to bed with her, finding it lying on its side just under her bunk. With a few large gulps she was starting to feel better, but she still squinted her eyes to try to block out the bright rays of sun streaming through the blinds that they had failed to close the night before. From her standing position, she could now see that Tara still remained in the top bunk, covered completely, including her head, by a green and red plaid comforter. She grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, pulled the cord on the blinds to darken the room for her sleeping friend and quietly slipped out the door to head for the bathroom.

The shorts and oversized t-shirt she had chosen to sleep in the night before were proving to be less than adequate for the cool morning and she wished she had grabbed a sweatshirt. Slipping into the bathroom across the hall, she turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to turn warm before splashing some on her face. Using the pads of her fingers, she wiped away the mascara that had escaped her lashes and settled onto the skin under her eyes as she slept. 'Good enough', she thought, moving on to her toothbrush.

Once she had thoroughly brushed off the taste of scotch that lingered on her tongue, and chastised herself for partaking in Rick's drink choice, she rinsed her mouth and pulled her dreadlocks up into a high ponytail on the top of her head. She had turned to head down the stairs when she saw Rick emerge from the room he was staying in. A smile overtook her face at the sight of him first thing in the morning. He was dressed in a pair of navy blue pajama pants and a grey sweatshirt that was only half zipped, revealing his toned chest. It was a strange sight to see him this way. He looked almost boyish, which was not a word she would have ever used to describe him before.

"Why are you smiling like that?" he rasped, his voice sounding as if he had woken only moments before appearing to her.

"You just look...different. I almost didn't recognize you without the boots and jeans." She smiled widely and took a step to meet him at the top of the stairs.

Rick's mouth turned upward as her comment drew his attention to her own early morning attire, and he struggled to keep his eyes from surveying her bare legs. "I'll be putting 'em back on soon enough," he joked.

Her smile turned into a giggle as she examined the way his normally tidy curls lay haphazardly atop his head, falling every which way. "I think you might have the best bed-head I've ever seen!" she exclaimed as she reached her hand up to touch a stray curl that had fallen in his face. He instinctively closed his eyes as she used her fingers to brush it back into place. Seeing his reaction, she couldn't help but comb a few more strands as he leaned his head into her touch.

"You two heading down?" Andrea asked, as she appeared beside them in her pajamas, attempting to make her way down the stairs. Her eyes were passing between them and a large grin hung on her face.

"Yeah...I was looking for some coffee," Michonne replied, her hand dropping to her side. She turned to follow Andrea down the stairs, giving Rick a quick, parting smile.

Rick continued his path to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the large linen closet just outside the door. He pulled open the blinds, allowing the bright, morning sun to stream in and shine light on his face as he squinted at himself in the mirror. His eyes were puffy and red rimmed. He was more than a little hungover and he looked it. Turning the faucet on and dipping his head low, he cupped his hand and allowed the cool water to fill it. He brought a few sips to his mouth then joined his hands to collect more water to splash on his face. As he unfolded the towel to pat his eyes dry, he caught a glimpse of his disheveled hair and smiled as he recalled the feel of Michonne's fingers brushing back his curls.

Tossing the towel aside, he unzipped his sweatshirt and shrugged it off. The pale, puckered scar on his chest, just above his pectoral muscle, caught his eye and he brought his hand up to touch it. When he had woken up to this wound it was the worst pain he had ever experienced and so much more had followed. Now, where his fingers brushed it, he felt nothing. Occasionally, the stiffness of his body in the morning would coerce aching pains where the muscles had been torn and repaired and he would briefly be aware of the injury, but for the most part, his body had healed from the trauma it had endured last New Year's Day.

He shed the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the handle until a hot, stinging spray of water poured down on him. Memories of the night before slipped into his thoughts as he tipped his head back, allowing the water to wash over his face as he lathered soap in his hands. He had told Michonne the story of when he was shot. It had surprised him how he was compelled to tell her. It was a piece of him that she didn't yet have and in that moment he didn't want there to be any missing pieces. The words flowed from him without consternation. It was the first time he had been able to recount that night without tumbling from that memory to the ones of Lori, like he was falling down a steep set of stairs.

Daryl and Abraham's words played in his head. His friends knew he was better when Michonne was around and he knew it too. Being near her was like a salve for the wounds he was nursing in his mind. He had been open and raw for so long, but he could feel the sharp pain fading to a dull ache, the same as it had for his body. He had pressed the wound last night by telling her his story, and he had felt the beginning of a scar; still sensitive but causing nowhere near the agony that lived there before. That was because of her.

Rick finished his shower, letting the stream rinse the lather from his body. He pushed the handle in the other direction bringing the water to a stop and stood, letting the steam fill his lungs as his thoughts continued. He knew he was grateful to Michonne for the friendship she had shown him. He recognized that she had something he needed, desperately, and he was aware that she had become a home base for him where he constantly returned to recharge. She had become his closest friend and he had been fulfilled by that friendship, until now. Mike's presence had stirred something in him that he had been trying to dissect. Ever since Karin had mentioned Mike to Michonne in front of him he had felt uneasy. He was a cop; he was suspicious by nature and he told himself he was just feeling protective of his friend. He wasn't jealous as Abraham had suggested he should be. He wasn't apprehensive about losing their friendship. If Michonne ended up with Mike, the two of them would still be friends. She would still spend time with him, with his son. He would still be able to draw comfort from her steady presence in his life. But, when she had leaned against him last night as they stood around the pool table, and when she had touched him this morning, stroking his hair with her fingers, he knew he wouldn't still have that. It scared the hell out of him, but he wanted that.

…

The more adventurous members of the group had woken with the sun and headed to the local mountain to spend their New Year's Day skiing. Mike had tried his best to convince Michonne to join them, but she had been content to stay back and put off getting dressed as long as she could. She and Maggie were lounging comfortably on the couch in the main building, nursing matching headaches when Tara shuffled in, looking far worse off than them. She wore a pair of men's sweatpants and a faded Atlanta Braves t-shirt and her hair was matted every which way. Mascara was streaked below her swollen eyes.

"Where is everyone?"she asked, taking in the nearly empty house.

"Most of 'em went skiing. Shane and Andrea went back to bed and some of the guys are outside tossing around the football." Maggie gestured lazily to the window where Tara spied Rick, Daryl and Glenn running around with Carl and the other boys. Abraham was perched on a picnic bench, supervising.

"I guess I missed breakfast." she sighed, dropping onto the couch next to Maggie.

"It's almost noon!" Michonne laughed. "I was just about to figure out lunch."

"I'll help you," Maggie said, tossing Tara the pillow she had been using.

They made their way to the kitchen and Michonne opened the refrigerator, surveying an assortment of leftovers from the night before and a large stock of coldcuts and cheese that she assumed were lunch supplies. Taking the food out and laying it on the counter, she and Maggie got to work assembling different combinations of meats and cheeses onto bread. They sliced the sandwiches into halves and arranged them on a platter and Maggie dug through the cabinets, searching out a couple of bags of chips.

Shane and Andrea had rejoined the group by the time they were done prepping the meal and everyone helped themselves. As if they could sense there was a meal ready, the men who had been outside came rushing through the door in a flurry of activity. Carl and Tim ran ahead while Abraham playfully admonished his other son for what must have been a poor showing.

"How'd it go?" Michonne asked, eyeing Isaac's flushed cheeks.

"Isaac's about as good at throwing a football as you are at darts," Rick answered, not wanting to miss an opportunity to tease her. He claimed the spot beside her and playfully nudged her with his hip as he reached for one of the sandwiches.

"So, he's still warming up," she smiled back at Rick and then the boy.

"Threw a nice tight spiral. I would have been impressed had it found it's way to my hands instead of my windshield." Abraham ruffled his son's hair.

"Oh no!" Maggie exclaimed with wide eyes.

"He got lucky. The thing bounced like one of Dixon's dates in the morning."

Tara snorted as she spit the water she was trying to sip back into her glass.

"Funny," Daryl said, with his mouth full of sandwich.

"Michonne," Carl said in between bites. "We're playing a real game later. Touch football. Are you going to play?"

Rick raised an eyebrow at her, genuinely interested in her response.

"Maggie's playing," Glenn offered.

"I said I was watching," Maggie returned.

"Football isn't really my sport, Carl," Michonne smiled, as she grabbed another sandwich half.

"Let me guess," Rick said, pretending he was thinking hard. "Tennis? Crouquet?"

"Oh, I see how it is," she said, pushing Rick's arm as they both laughed. "You cowboys think I'm some soft, city slicker."

Rick reached over and took her hand, holding up her perfectly painted nails to the group. "She doesn't want to wreck her manicure." He smiled devilishly at her, letting their hands fall back behind the island, and holding hers well after he had made his point.

She stared at him, her belly fluttering at the prolonged contact. "Well, I already offered to help cook dinner, so I won't be able to prove you wrong today. Raincheck on the contact sports."

"We'll hold you to it," Rick said, keeping his eyes on hers.

He had just turned back to his sandwich when he felt his cell phone vibrating in the back pocket of his jeans. He stood to retrieve it, dropping his plate in the sink as he brought the screen around to his face. He stood there staring for a minute then, glancing around the room, he pulled it up to his ear and took off for the door, leaving it to slam in his wake.

Daryl looked first at Carl, who had an uneasy expression on his face, then he turned across the island to Michonne. He didn't have to say a thing, the glare in his eyes told her he knew exactly who it was.

…

Rick hustled down the three steps and out the door to the cold, stone patio before he acknowledged the caller on the other line. He had removed his coat before lunch and his skin prickled at being exposed to both the January air and the ice that now coursed through his veins. "Hello?" he answered bitterly, his irritation rising as his body temperature dropped.

"Rick?" Lori asked, not completely recognizing his voice.

"Yeah, it's me. What do you need?" his hand came up to the back of his head grabbing a fistful of hair as he tried to pull his voice back to a civil tone.

"I...I was just calling to say 'Happy New Year' to Carl and to you."

Rick couldn't help but huff a mocking breath at her. "I'll get him then," he said after a minute, turning back toward the door he had just exited. He was prepared to be done with the conversation even if it meant allowing her to speak to Carl out of the blue.

"Wait…" she called. "How are you?"

He laughed again, letting his hand drop from the doorknob.

"I just...I thought this might be a hard day for you," she explained. "It's not exactly my favorite holiday to remember after last year." He remained silent, not having a clue how to respond to her in this moment. Mistaking his lack of response for a cue, she continued, "Rick, no matter how it turned out I'll always remember that day as the worst of my life. Getting that call, seeing you like that." She paused to clear her throat. "Are you...how are you...coping?" she stammered.

He didn't answer her right away, breathing out a long sigh while he weighed her words. The silence pained her. It had always pained her. Every second that passed without a response from him reminded her of their strained relationship and what she'd done to end it. He hadn't been easy to be with and neither had she, but she knew deep down she was the only one of them with the capacity for the betrayal she had committed. He would have been loyal to her forever if she had let him, and he would have let her go if she had just asked. Instead she let him know their life wasn't what she wanted in the cruelest way possible and it changed him. The muffled sound of her sniffing back tears filled the silence and her voice cracked. "Rick, I know it hasn't been easy. Are you talking to anyone? If you want to talk…"

He resented the sound of her tears. He needed that intimacy then, but not anymore. She had abandoned him while he lay asleep in that hospital, trying to claw his way back to her and now she was showing him, what? Comfort? Pity? His jaw clenched and his eyes snapped shut as the hand that was in his hair dragged over his face, settling over his mouth. He paced in a small circle as he listened to her bold declaration of concern after everything she had done.

"Look, if you want to talk, talk to Phillip. Just because I let you see Carl for Christmas doesn't mean I'm interested in you calling just to...just to _chat_. If you want to speak with Carl I'll get him, but I think we're done reminiscing." He was practically spitting into the phone, his voice low and full of repugnance. He had woken that morning with a new perspective on his pain. He had thought of the day, remembered the event and then set it down. The memory was a brief visitor, like a ghost he had caught a glimpse of out of the corner of his eye. It hadn't settled in or taken him with it. He was here, today, right where he was supposed to be and she was trying to take him back.

Feeling jarred by his vitriol, she didn't respond right away. They hadn't spoken since the divorce until she had called to discuss taking Carl for Christmas. She hadn't even called him with the results of the paternity test, opting instead to have her lawyer forward them along. Their last conversation had been tense, but she thought his willingness to allow Carl to spend the holiday with her was a sign that he was moving past his hatred for her. This reaction, this temper he was displaying, it alarmed her. "Ok, Rick. Listen, I get it, it can't be me. Just, talk to someone. Can I speak with Carl?" Her voice was filled with trepidation and it enraged him.

He dropped the phone to his side without responding and strode back across the patio to the main building where he had left Carl looking worried. He paused before opening the door, trying to breath out the storm that was brewing inside him. Softening his face for Carl's sake, he made his way into the living room quickly and was surprised to find the larger group had returned from skiing. They paused their chatter when the door slammed behind him.

He remembered his intent and strode across the room to Carl who sat with Daryl on the couch. "Your mother wants to wish you a nice holiday," he said, his voice so even and calm that Daryl's eyes narrowed in worry. In his struggle to keep his muscles loose, Rick forgot to raise his arm to give the boy the phone and he was grateful when his partner slipped it from his hand and passed it to his son.

Carl stood from his seat, looking back and forth between his father and Daryl who seemed to be communicating silently. Daryl gave him a nod and Carl took the phone and retreated into his bunk room, closing the door.

When Carl was gone all eyes were back on Rick as he turned and headed straight out of the room without saying a word. Daryl was on his heels, glancing at Michonne and nodding at the door where Carl had gone. She nodded back, silently agreeing to their specific assignments. He had Rick, she would check on Carl.

…

She waited until the muffled sound of conversation had ended before softly rapping a knuckle on Carl's door. The group that had returned were dispersing to their rooms to change, so they were left with some privacy as Carl slowly opened the door and let her in.

"Is my dad mad?" he asked, dropping onto his bottom bunk.

Michonne blew out a breath as she took a seat on the bed across from him. She couldn't lie to him if she wanted to. Rick's anger was palpable when he had brought Carl the phone. "Not at you," she settled with.

He dropped his head as he spoke. "I shouldn't have gone there for Christmas."

"Why not?" she asked, softly.

"Cause now it's going to get complicated for him. She's calling him again. I know it upsets him to hear from her."

She nodded and stayed silent for a moment. He was right about that, it definitely complicated things, but it was never going to be easy. "How was it?" she asked, laying back on her elbows and turning away from him. "Did you have a nice Christmas?" She picked up a tennis ball that was lying on the bed and started tossing it up, playing catch with herself.

Carl's eyes followed the ball as he remembered the previous weekend. He had enjoyed it, despite himself. "It was okay. My little sister is really cute. She liked the toy we picked out. My mom seemed...happy, I guess."

"And how do you feel about her calling today?"

"I feel bad that it upset my dad."

"But, how do you feel?" she repeated. "Did it upset you?"

"No," he whispered. "I was glad to talk to her." His shoulders dropped at the confession and his eyes stayed on the floor.

"You don't have to feel guilty for that, Carl." She sat back up, dipping her head to catch his gaze. "I know it scares you to see your dad upset, but no matter what he is dealing with, all he wants is to do right by you, so let him do it."

"I'm just worried about him."

She sighed and reached for his hand before she continued. "I know what it's like, when your world goes to hell. When everything changes and you're left trying to pick up the pieces. When I met your dad, I could see that's what he was doing too and you know what? Despite moments like this, I could tell he was doing a better job at it than me. I knew that whatever he was battling he was going to win, because he was here, showing up every day, as hard as it was."

Carl looked up at her now, searching her face while he pondered her words. He knew his dad was strong even though everyone was always worried about him. Michonne didn't seem worried. She saw it too, how he was still fighting. "He'll be ok," Carl said, nodding to himself.

"I mean, I can't guarantee he makes it through the football game without any broken bones, but as far as you and him, he'll definitely be ok."

Carl laughed, his eyes light again. He stood from the bed and crossed to where she sat, throwing his arms around her waist. "Thanks, Michonne."

…

Evening was falling and Abraham and Shane had assembled the rosters for their touch football game. Rick had tried one more time to get her to play when he had returned from his talk with Daryl, but she really was on dinner duty and had to decline. If she hadn't promised Andrea, she was was pretty sure she wouldn't have been able to say no to those baby blue eyes. His or Carl's. She stood at the dining room table taking groceries out of paper bags and organizing them for the recipe they were following. Rosita and Andrea had come up with the meal and she and Sasha had volunteered to help cook it. Happy to let someone else have a turn, Francine and Karin now joined Maggie and Tara, representing the women on the football field.

Andrea stood at the kitchen island, chopping scallions and regaling them with a tale of the New Year's she had spent with Shane in their private room after the ball dropped. Rosita was giggling at the slightly inappropriate details and Michonne was secretly patting herself on the back for sending Rick to claim the room next to theirs.

"As fun as it was, I did sort of envy you guys getting to have a sleepover in the bunk rooms," Andrea said.

"We passed out as soon as we all got to the room," Michonne replied, absentmindedly flipping through a cooking magazine and waiting for her next assignment.

"Yeah, no time for girl talk." Rosita sighed. "Of course you guys could have come to the mountain with us today. We spent most of the time in the lodge drinking spiked hot chocolate."

"I had no intention of getting up that early," Michonne said, scrunching up her face. "Good for ya'll, but I'm much more interested in relaxing on vacation."

"I have to agree with that," Andrea said, opening a bottle of white wine that was part ingredient, part side dish. "And as fun as the football game sounded," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "I think we made the best choice."

"Yes, this was definitely the best choice," Michonne said, taking the bottle of wine from her friend and pouring some into a glass.

"Surprised you're starting again so soon," Rosita chided. "I thought you'd be nursing a pretty bad hangover today after sharing that scotch with Rick."

"It's subsiding," she said, taking a sip and handing the bottle to Sasha. She looked back and found Andrea staring at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Sharing drinks with Rick, huh? And just casually running your hands through his hair when I found you guys in the hall this morning."

Sasha looked up from her phone where she had been reading the recipe, giving her friend a raised eyebrow.

"I wasn't...It wasn't like that." Michonne could feel her cheeks blushing and she grabbed the phone from Sasha, anxious to interrupt the flow of the conversation. "You need two cups of those," she pointed to Andrea's veggies.

"So, what was it like?" Andrea asked, as she resumed chopping.

Michonne ignored her and continued to scroll through the recipe. She hoped against hope that her friend would drop it but she knew Andrea too well to expect that.

"Mike looked like a sad little puppy dog when she told him she wasn't going with us today," Sasha added, spurring Andrea on.

"Is this what you guys mean by 'girl talk'? Because I'd rather hear another story about Andrea and Shane's evening."

"That's all I got. Someone else's turn," Andrea joked. "Look, we're just chatting. Rosita, what's going on with you and Daryl?" She turned to the other woman, attempting to prove that they were all sharing equally here.

"Flirting, haven't decided yet if we're hooking up this weekend," Rosita answered casually.

"So, what do you think about Mike?" Andrea asked, pushing the chopped scallions into a mixing bowl with the edge of her knife.

"He seems nice. He's good looking, funny." Michonne was trying to give Andrea something worthwhile to keep the conversation from going back to Rick.

"And he likes you," she continued.

"He seems to."

"So are you gonna go for it?"

"I don't know what that means," Michonne feigned with a shrug.

"She's not," Rosita chimed in matter of factly, drawing both women's attention. "He was trying hard last night and you weren't giving him the time of day."

"I didn't really notice," Michonne lied.

"Rick did," she said, taking a sip of her drink.

Sasha was looking back and forth between her two friends expectantly, wishing she had chosen to join them at the pool table last night. It seemed like she had missed a lot.

"Rick notices everything you do," Rosita continued, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder and turning in her seat to face Michonne. "You do the same with him. That's why Mike isn't going to get anywhere." Rosita rattled off her observation as straightforwardly as if she was reading the ingredient list for their dinner.

Michonne's eyes were wide and she searched her mind for a response, coming up short. She knew Rick did notice Mike's interest in her. His demeanor had changed the minute Karin had mentioned Mike to her, but he was probably just being protective, looking out for a friend.

Andrea gave Michonne a hard look. It was becoming apparent that her friend wasn't actually trying to be coy, she just hadn't figured out her own feelings yet. Michonne didn't like surprises, even if she was the one surprising herself, so Andrea thought maybe she could lead her into the light, gently. "You know, I was the one pushing you and Rick from the beginning but, honestly, he'd be hard to love. He's moody. Kinda arrogant sometimes."

Sasha was squinting at Andrea, wondering where she was going with this. She had been trying to set these two up for months.

Michonne turned back to the groceries, finding herself suddenly irritated at her friend. "That seems like a harsh critique from someone who is dating Shane."

Andrea let the barb slide off her back. She was getting exactly the reaction she had hoped for. "Look, I could see how you would be good for him. He needs someone grounded like you to bring him back from his little head trips." She waved her hand hand around her forehead to illustrate her point. "He's always like one second away from losing it and you could definitely help him keep that in check. You already do, but I would think that would get pretty old after awhile; being the emotionally stable one. Maybe he is just damaged goods." She shrugged her shoulders and picked up her drink, taking a long sip while staring right at Michonne.

Michonne was more than irritated now. Andrea was out of line. Rick was quick tempered but he wasn't unstable and he certainly wasn't damaged. He was moody because he was contemplative, always analyzing himself and his actions to see where he could do better. She had run away when her life had turned upside down, but he stayed. He faced his demons head on in front of an unforgiving audience that judged his every action and she had witnessed him come out stronger on the other side. Sure, she had helped him along the way, but he had helped her too. He trusted her when she didn't trust herself. She had little faith left in her own judgment when she met him and he put himself and his son in her hands, time after time. Letting her help him had been a gift to her as well.

Andrea could sense her friend was seething. She contemplated leaving it there but she wanted to make sure Michonne made it all the way where she needed to be. "I'm just saying," Andrea said, carefully eyeing Michonne's reaction. "Mike's right here. Maybe you should give him a chance."

Rosita and Sasha stared hard at Andrea and Michonne. They could see Andrea was playing devil's advocate and it was working. Michonne was figuring out what they all already knew, right before their eyes.

"I...I don't want to. I'm just not interested," Michonne said.

"Why?" Andrea challenged, knowing the answer.

She paused for a moment, unsure if she wanted to share the reason that had just dawned on her, but looking around she got the feeling she wasn't telling them anything they didn't already know. "Because he's not Rick."

Andrea dropped her act and smiled tenderly at her friend who was staring down at her wine.

"Poor Mike," Rosita whispered, shaking her head and causing all of them to laugh.


	14. Chapter 14

Dinner had been a success, and the group found their way to more quiet activities as the night was settling in. Rick leaned on his forearms against the short, wooden railing that separated the patio from where the lawn gave way to a rolling descent. Snow was still drifting lazily down from the sky, as it had been since they arrived, and the chill had Michonne bundled in a quilted, black jacket, hiding the bottom of her face under a red scarf. She stood close enough that her arm brushed his every time she brought her mug of spiked hot chocolate to her mouth for a sip. The sun had passed behind the range that they were looking out over, leaving the white lights strung above them to have their moment.

"So, that call you took earlier," she said. "You want to talk about it?"

Rick tipped his head back, sucking in a long breath of cold air before returning his eyes to hers. He chewed on his bottom lip while his gaze swept her face. "I don't," he said, apprehensively.

He braced himself for a discouraged look from her. It had always been a point of contention in his relationship with Lori: the fact that he didn't share his thoughts as they were forming. She had claimed it was a "Mars vs Venus" thing. Some theory she had read about the way men and women communicated, and how they were destined to miss each other completely if they didn't accommodate for the differences. He had never bought it. Shane verbalized every damn thing that flowed through his mind and he was certainly not the poster boy for functional relationships.

She nodded her head, accepting his answer without any admonishment and he let out the breath he had been holding, feeling relieved.

"Another time," he promised, taking a long draw from his own mug.

She gazed out at the dark mountains, dotted with the lights from gatherings just like theirs, and took a deep breath. The fire was crackling behind them, and she could hear the faint sound of Maggie's voice. She and Glenn sat, huddled under a blanket, across from Bob and Sasha. Mike and Tara completed their circle, each seated beside one of the empty chairs that Rick and Michonne had previously occupied. Rick had left his first, wandering away from the group as the conversation lulled. A little while later, Michonne had found her way to the spot beside him after refilling her drink.

"When we pulled up, I knew this spot would be the best seat in the house," Michonne said, marveling at the purple sky, still bruised where the sun had set. "The view is amazing."

"First day of the new year, coming to an end." He brought his drink to his lips and finished the last sip to punctuate his point.

Michonne glanced back toward the group, looking for the carafe of hot chocolate they had been pouring from, and saw Sasha and Bob gathering their blanket to head back inside. Karin had suggested a movie night and the smell of popcorn was starting to float out of the house, signaling its start. Mike headed in as well, not bothering to check if Michonne was coming for the first time since he had arrived.

"You guys coming in?" Glenn called from behind them. They looked back at each other, both feeling grounded to the spot.

"Not yet," Rick answered for both of them.

"Not saving you any popcorn," Tara warned, helping Maggie gather the rest of their things to bring inside.

Michonne grinned, giving her a dismissive wave.

"I am hungry," Rick confessed, when they had been left to themselves.

"Seriously? After that meal?"

"I didn't get any dessert," he laughed.

"You wanna go in?" Michonne asked, finding herself slightly disappointed.

"No. If I start watching a movie I'll pass out."

"Like you did last night, old man?" she chided.

"Hey, who woke who up? Besides, that movie was awful."

"You wouldn't know because you didn't see the end."

He turned his body to face her and tilted his head. "So, tell me what happened," he said, knowing full well she hadn't seen it either.

She avoided his question, grinning at having been caught. "Come on," she said, grabbing a handful of his coat sleeve. "I have food."

He followed her across the patio and through the door to the smaller bunk house, her hand dropping from his coat once they reached the living room. She found the small table lamp and turned it on, casting a warm glow across the seating area.

"Wait here," she said, crossing the room and heading up the stairs to the second floor.

Rick went to the kitchenette, dropping his empty mug on the counter and opening the small refrigerator. He remembered Daryl had stashed a random selection of beers in there when they had unpacked and, having shared a bottle of scotch with him the night before, he knew they were untouched. He grabbed a lager for himself and shuffled through the cans and bottles, searching for a lighter option for Michonne. Finding a citrus flavored beer that he thought she would like, he combed the drawers for a bottle opener. He had just popped the top off of both of them when she returned.

"These were supposed to be for the car ride home, but we can just stop somewhere to pick something else up." She held up a bag of chocolate cookies and dropped onto the couch, setting her feet on the small coffee table.

"You don't think we can go a couple hours without a snack?" he laughed, taking the seat beside her and handing her a bottle.

She smiled at the selection he made for her and took a long sip. "Just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should." She reached into the bag, handing him a cookie and taking one for herself.

"Carl wouldn't like these anyway. It's better we keep them for ourselves."

"Your son does have some odd quirks," she laughed, finishing the cookie and reaching for another one.

"Yeah, well, just don't tell Daryl about 'em. We're already drinking his beer."

She gave him a questioning look as she took another pull of hers. "Wouldn't have pegged him for a fruity beer type of guy."

"These came from the back of his fridge. I'm sure one of his dates left it there." He set his bottle down on the coffee table so he could remove his coat.

She continued to question him with her eyes. "When is he out with these girls? I only ever see him with you."

"They aren't the types of girls you bring around your friends. I don't think they'd have much in common with you or Maggie or Sasha."

She playfully nudged his knee with hers as she shrugged out of her own coat, tossing her scarf on the chair across from them. "You're lying."

"I'm not. He has bad taste," he said, laughing into his bottle as he took a sip. "Plus, he needs to appear available when Rosita's around."

"I see. So give me the scoop on that." She felt no guilt about prying after her earlier conversation with Rosita and she turned her shoulders toward him, hoping for a candid answer.

"Nah, I can't tell all his secrets," he simpered.

"Very loyal of you, Grimes."

"Just enjoy their leftover beer and be happy you didn't have to have a conversation with them."

"You're terrible," she giggled.

"He'll figure it out, eventually. So will Rosita, and then they'll ride off into the sunset on his bike and we'll all eat deer meat at their wedding."

She was laughing hard now, trying not to spit out her beer and he couldn't help but join her. She pinched her lips shut and tried to catch her breath, unsuccessfully. The sight of her losing the battle had Rick's face beaming with delight. This was what drew him to her, time and again, the easy way she let herself feel happiness. The way she commanded a moment and was vulnerable to it at the same time. As she doubled over with laughter, her head fell toward his shoulder and he had to touch her, to capture some of her bliss. Without warning, he dipped his chin, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Startled by the contact, her giggling ceased and she suddenly felt breathless for a new reason. As she lifted her head to meet his gaze, she found a timid grin on his face and her heart swelled. She knew deep down how he felt about her, even if she had only just admitted that she felt it too. She just hadn't expected him to be ready for it. Now here he was, looking at her with those mesmerizing eyes, waiting for her to accept what must have been so hard for him to offer. She took a deep breath, her lips turning upward into a matching smile as she released it.

He brought a hand to her cheek as he leaned toward her, and she trembled at the familiar intensity of his eyes just before they closed. She watched until his mouth was pressed against hers and then allowed her own eyes to fall shut, giving her other senses their turn.

His lips begged hers apart and her tongue met with the intoxicating flavor of sweet chocolate and bitter beer still lingering in his mouth. The scent of the fire and the fresh mountain air was still on his shirt as he pulled her against him and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. Rick was steady and calm, as he always was when he was near her.

He took his time with the kiss, reveling in how right it felt to be this close to her, to finally close the distance he had been keeping. He had been holding a vigil over the pain in his heart, out of guilt or a sense of obligation, but he was ready to turn away from it. To lay down the burden and let his heart be free to experience a different emotion. He leaned over her, covering her with his shoulders as she sank farther into the couch. He lingered on her mouth, alternating between shallow and deep as he tasted her again and again.

Wanting to be closer still, he dropped his hand from her face and placed it on the edge of the couch for support as he guided her backwards with his other arm. Resting on his forearm, he hovered above her, finally breaking their kiss to search her face for confirmation that he should continue. He found what he was looking for when her hands came up to the back of his head, and her fingers slipped into his hair. He closed his eyes, conjuring the memory of when she had done the same that morning. It was in that moment that he had finally realized how much he needed her touch. He dove back in, landing at her neck and she pulled in a sharp breath.

She arched toward him as his tongue surveyed the skin from her chin to her collarbone. Her hands roamed his back, feeling his muscles contract as he moved above her. She gently pulled at the fabric of his shirt and he groaned quietly as it came untucked, and her hands slipped underneath. His bare skin was warm as she moved along his lower back, then up the sides of his waist, causing him to shudder. She could feel him harden against her leg as she explored and she pulled him tightly against her, letting him know she was with him.

His lips made it back to her mouth with more urgency and his hand dropped to her hip, fingering the hem of her shirt for a moment before finding his way underneath. He squeezed the soft flesh of her hip then gently moved upward, his palm skimming the side of her satin bra.

He felt himself slipping from control and he paused, pressing his forehead to hers. He sucked in a long breath to steady himself and their whereabouts came flooding back to him. Bypassing her lips, he dropped his mouth to her shoulder, scraping it with his teeth as he breathed out a half groan, half growl. His body still moved against her, but his mouth snapped shut and he pulled back up onto his hands, breaking their contact. He hung his head and a muted laugh escaped from his lips.

"Not like this," he whispered.

His words broke her from the spell she had slipped under. She brought a hand to her face and let out her own sheepish laugh. She turned her head toward the front door where her friends could come in any minute and sighed. Looking back up at him, she nodded, reluctantly. As if unsure of his decision, he leaned back in and pressed another kiss to her lips, then collapsed on top of her with a laugh.

"I feel like a kid hooking up at summer camp," he said into her neck, thinking of their shared bunks upstairs.

"That's all we need is Andrea walking in right now," she said with a groan.

"Or Mike," he teased. He pulled back onto his knees and extended an arm to help her sit up.

"Why do I get the feeling you would like that?" she said, eyeing his mischievous grin.

He shrugged in response, settling back onto the couch. He waited for her to pull her shirt back into place, then put an arm around her. "I wouldn't be too broken up about it. Why? You want to keep your options open?"

She elbowed him playfully then settled into him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "He never had a chance," she whispered.

He smiled at her confession, dropping his mouth to the top of her head. "How about, when we get back home, you let me take you out...without Carl."

"If you think you'll be as much fun as him," she giggled, tipping her head up so his lips fell to her forehead.

He laughed, finding her lips again. "I'll do my best."

…

"Where's my dad?" Carl asked, as he came to sit next to Maggie. Maggie surveyed the room. The movie was over and she realized Rick had never made it back and neither had Michonne. She looked back and forth between Daryl and Glenn, hoping to find an answer but she was met with blank stares.

"You know your old man, Carl," Daryl said with a wink. "He can't party like the rest of us. Why don't you brush your teeth and get to bed."

"I'll get them settled," Abraham said, ushering the boys up the stairs.

Carl laughed, thinking of his dad falling asleep during the movie the night before. "Alright, good night, guys," he said as he followed Tim and Abraham upstairs.

"Goodnight, Carl," Maggie called after him.

"Think it's safe to go back to the bunks?" Glenn joked after Carl had disappeared upstairs.

"I hope not," Rosita snickered, standing to stretch.

"What do we do about her?" Daryl asked, gesturing to Tara who was fast asleep on one of the chairs.

Maggie threw a blanket over her and switched off the lamp beside her head. "She'll be fine here. Let's go."

The four of them made their way across the patio and into the second building where Daryl crested the stairs first. He found Rick asleep just as he suspected, but as he came farther into the room he saw Michonne sleeping too, with her head in his lap. Rick's arm was tight around her and their fingers were interlaced.

"Well, look at this," Daryl whispered.

"Do we leave them here?" Maggie asked, coming to stand next to him, a huge grin on her face.

"Carl's all set. Leave them be," Glenn said as he switched off the table lamp and pulled Maggie down the hall to their room.

"Can't wait till Andrea and Shane come back," Rosita laughed, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Looks like you've got your room to yourself," Daryl said, slinging an arm around her waist.

"Good point! Come on," she laughed, grabbing his shirt and pulling him up the stairs behind her.


	15. Chapter 15

"Did we just complicate things?" Michonne asked with a smile. Rick rolled toward her, wiping the sleep from his eyes. The sunlight was streaming through his bedroom window and it highlighted his chestnut hair, making the ends of his curls look much lighter. She studied them, wondering how she kept discovering new things about him.

True to his word, Rick had taken her out the weekend after they returned from the mountain. He showed up at her house looking handsome and confident in a light blue, button down shirt and jeans, his face smooth since he had been back in uniform all week. She had been nervous until he had arrived, greeting her with that adorable smile, and she realized they had been out together many times, just with a little more company.

They left their quiet town in search of somewhere where the restaurants stayed open past the dinner rush, and chose a quiet, dimly lit place that served an eclectic mix of plates made for sharing. They had fully intended on staying for dessert and drinks, maybe exploring the town together after dinner but, after an hour of flirting over their food and finding every reason they could to touch each other, their date was starting to feel more like a formality. Michonne had suggested going back to Rick's house under the guise of watching a movie and they had spent the rest of the evening fervently and deliberately dragging their friendship over a line they could never return from.

Smiling at her question, he reached under the covers and pulled her toward him, whispering into her neck, "This seems like the least complicated thing I've ever done in my life."

"I'm serious," she laughed, tipping her head back to give him better access. "We have all the same friends...and, frankly, they're your friends. If this doesn't work out, it could get really awkward."

"They may have known me longer, but they like you more," he said, in between the kisses he was placing on her skin.

"True," she jokingly agreed, pulling his arms tighter around her waist.

"You already thinkin' about breaking up after the first night?" He moved his way down her arm as he spoke, his hair falling around his face.

"No," she said, firmly. "I'm not. It just occurred to me how intertwined our lives are already."

He rolled away from her and stared up at the ceiling, pretending to be concerned. "Ok, ok," he sighed. "I'll make you a deal. If we break up, you can keep Andrea and Shane. I'll even throw in Tara."

She giggled freely at his joke, deciding to abandon any serious discussion for the moment. She was happy and she was going to allow herself to enjoy this without overthinking. She rolled toward him to resume their contact and rested her head on his bare chest.

He placed his lips on her forehead, pulling her close. "Michonne, this didn't just start that night on the couch. I've felt this way for awhile now. I thought you were my best friend and then I realized Daryl's my best friend...you're somethin' else entirely." He paused for a minute, deliberating on his words while he ran his fingers along the skin of her arm. "I just...I wasn't thinking about what that would look like, ya know? Caring like that again? So I didn't recognize it right away." He breathed out a long sigh, turning his body so he could look at her. "It's not new. I just figured it out."

She pulled herself up toward him and kissed him, cupping his face with her hand. "Me too," she whispered.

…

" _Where are you?"_

" _I'm home."_ Michonne lied as she zipped up her boots and looked around Rick's room for her sweater.

" _Then answer your door."_

"Shit," she muttered.

" _I'm sleeping, Andrea. Go away"_ she typed, knowing she wasn't getting away with this. It seemed they didn't have to break up for this to get awkward with their friends.

She heard the water from Rick's shower shut off and he appeared, moments later, wrapped in a towel. "What's the matter?" he asked, taking in the scowl on her face.

"Andrea..." she sighed as her phone buzzed again.

" _Liar. Where are you waking up right now? It'd better be Rick's."_

Michonne ignored the text, tossing her phone into her purse, and settled onto the bed to watch Rick get dressed.

"I'm going to get Carl after I bring you home. What are you doing later? You wanna come back?"

She smiled brightly at how honest he was with his affections. She was used to the typical song and dance of pretending to be less invested than the other person at the beginning of a relationship. With him there was no pretense, he said exactly what he felt.

"I have a feeling I have a date with Andrea," she said, hating to turn him down. "Tomorrow?"

"We're having lunch at my mom's tomorrow. You should come." He pulled a t-shirt over his head and smiled at her.

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"You've already met, Michonne. It's only a big deal if you make it one. Daryl will be there."

"Is he bringing a date, too?" she laughed, remembering what Rick had said about Daryl's secret dalliances.

Rick chuckled. "I'll tell him to if it will make you feel better."

She sighed, leaning back onto his bed. "No," she said with a smile. "I'll come."

…

"You could call before you come over." Michonne said, opening the door to let Andrea in.

"I came by this morning to invite you to breakfast," she explained as she came in and took a seat on Michonne's couch. "But since you lied about being home and then ignored my texts, I figured I should come back on my way home and make sure you were safe."

"You knew where I was."

"I had a hunch, but I didn't have enough evidence to prove it."

Michonne rolled her eyes at her friend.

"Come on! I haven't talked to you all week. We haven't even discussed the fact that I stumbled upon you two cuddling on the couch last weekend. Me and Shane and Mike saw you, I should clarify. You sure let him down easy." Andrea laughed at her own joke as Michonne sighed.

She had realized everyone had seen them when she woke up in Rick's arms in the middle of the night and saw lights were off and the door to her bunk was locked. With Carl in attendance for breakfast the next morning and the car ride home, they had luckily avoided any comments or questions from their smirking friends. Mike had gone out of his way to shake Rick's hand when they departed the next morning in a show of gentlemanly concession that both irritated and impressed her. It could have been a lot more uncomfortable.

"Daryl spent the night in Rosita's room," she said. "Why aren't you over at her house bothering her?"

"Because Rosita tells me everything. I've already heard about their night, now I want to hear about yours."

"Well, you are not getting that kind of detail, but Rick and I went out last night."

"And?"

"And I stayed there."

"Because?"

"Because it was late and we were tired."

Andrea threw herself backwards onto the couch in a dramatic display of exasperation. "You're killing me, Michonne."

"I'm not sure what you think I'm going to say, Andrea. You know me better than that." She stood and made her way into the kitchen, deciding that leaving was the only way to end the conversation.

"Fine," Andrea sighed, following her. "But you don't have to keep it a secret. Everyone knew this was going to happen. Well, I knew first, for the record. But everyone else saw it too. Even Mike." She gave Michonne a mischievous smile.

"It's not a secret. I'm just not going to share details with you, ok? And by the way, everyone knew you and Shane were back together even before the trip. Soooo…."

Andrea laughed heartily at her friend's retort. "You win," she said, holding her hands in the air. "I won't pry."

"Good. Now spill the details on Daryl and Rosita," Michonne said with a grin.

A/N Hope you guys don't hate me for skipping over the first date :) I just had that scene in my head and wanted to get it out. I promise there will be other dates.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N Okay you guys, message received lol. I appreciate the constructive criticism. Skipping the date was a misstep. JujusPetals and Chezza3009, the last thing I want to do is disappoint you. B and M and msdoomandgloom, you're right, the last chapter doesn't flow with my original pacing. Here's the thing: I don't write graphic smut, just isn't my style. You all do such a great job with that, I'm just going to enjoy yours. However, I promise to try to make up for it with adorableness and drama if you'll let me :). Thanks for the love on that, RGBzmom. That being said, I love you guys, so YOU SHALL HAVE YOUR DATE :-). Thanks for making me write it, I actually kinda like it, hope you do too.

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Rick settled into his bed, stretching out over the center of the mattress, as he had become accustomed to after sleeping alone for the past year. He had let Carl stay up late that night because it was Saturday night and they were both home, which only happened every other weekend due to his work schedule. The two had spent the evening watching an action movie, followed by its sequel, then he had sent Carl to bed while he remained on the couch, flipping through the channels aimlessly for another hour. He was acutely aware that he missed Michonne's presence already. She had woken up in his bed that morning and the memories of the night before were keeping him company and warding off any drowsiness. He had finally made his way to his room after exhausting all of his TV choice,s but he was still feeling wide awake. The clock on his bedside table reminded him it was after midnight and he reached behind him to grab another pillow, hoping to will himself to sleep.

He turned slightly, adjusting the extra support under his head and he was greeted with the soft, lingering scent of her. Michonne's perfume, a delightful blend of earthy spice and exotic flowers, persisted on the pillowcase and he couldn't help but press his face into the fabric. Feeling a bit like a lovesick teenager, he laughed at himself and continued fluffing the pillow, hers on top so he could inhale her as he slept. He breathed in a deep pull of air and closed his eyes as he exhaled. Finding his mind still unwilling to settle, he opened his eyes again and rolled onto his side. His focus fell on his phone on the table beside him and he picked it up, rolling it over in his hands as he contemplated sending Michonne a text telling her how much he already preferred sleeping with her beside him. He thought again of the late hour and decided against it. Instead, he turned on the screen and brought up their messages from the evening before, scrolling through them to reminisce.

He found the link she had sent him to the restaurant she had picked for their date and he smiled, allowing himself to replay the night in his mind once more. He had been entranced by her from the minute she opened the door to her house wearing a black dress that fell softly above her knee. The cozy, jersey like fabric hung casually off her hips in a way that made him almost envious of the way it wrapped her body in warmth and comfort. Her boots came just to the top of her calf, covering enough skin to keep her warm but leaving enough exposed to draw his eyes downward immediately.

He told himself he was going to forget where they had already been. He would keep his hands to himself and take her on a proper date, but when she smiled at him, looking the way she did, he couldn't help but touch her. He reached for her immediately, hoping the invitation she had previously extended to him still stood, and he kissed her harder than he had intended to after a week of going without. She kissed him back, letting her mouth curl into a wide grin when he pulled away.

"Sorry," he said, sheepishly. "I wasn't going to do that, right up until I did."

She laughed, her arms still draped on his shoulders. "I'm glad you did."

"You ready?" he asked, releasing her. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up. "I happened to hear about this place called 'La Orilla'" he said, butchering the Spanish name with his southern drawl. "Thought you might like it."

She laughed at his pronunciation and his joke. She had suggested the place and he was happy to let her. He was pretty sure whatever was on this menu was going to be a first for him but he would eat dog food if she asked him to.

"I'm ready," she said, continuing to grace him with her smile as she grabbed her coat. She allowed him to help her put it on despite him knowing that she wasn't exactly the type to enjoy old fashioned chivalry. He thought about toning it down for her; she exuded independance and he wasn't sure if the gestures were appreciated, but he couldn't imagine treating her in any other way. Seeming to understand that he couldn't help himself, she allowed him to open her car door for her as well, kissing him one more time before he closed it.

The drive was torturous; full of roads he didn't usually travel that forced him to keep his eyes on his driving instead of on her. He thought of all of the other times they had been in the car together. It was quieter without Carl in the back seat and their conversation, though as easy as it always was, was suffused with a new intimacy from the change in their relationship.

When she announced their arrival, pointing to the round, blue sign, hanging in front of a brick building, he pulled into a spot just past it on the street. He met her again at the car door, not quick enough to open it for her, but ready to help her out, and offered an arm as they walked along the cobblestone sidewalk. They walked slowly, savoring their resumed physical contact and accommodating for her heels on the uneven ground.

La Orilla was a popular place on a Friday night, but they quickly got a table nestled against an exposed brick wall and illuminated by both the dim sconces hanging on the wall above them, and a flickering white candle in the center. Michonne opened the menu and began reading the selections in perfect Spanish. He stared at her with a lopsided smile, having no idea what she was saying but thinking that it all sounded delicious coming from her mouth.

"So, these are Tapas," she was saying. "They're made for sharing."

He nodded, knowing he would just eat whatever she told him as long as she said it in Spanish. "First things first," he said. "Are you drinking scotch tonight? Or sticking with something lighter?"

She mirrored his playful smirk, setting the menu down. "I'll stick to wine tonight. I don't need to wake up with a horrible headache like I did New Year's Day."

"Well, I've got plenty of Advil... if you happen to wake up at my house," he said with one corner of his mouth turned up.

"That's very forward of you, Officer," she said with a forced straight face.

"It's Deputy, actually."

"What?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

"We're a Sheriff's Department. We usually go by Deputy." He sipped from the water glass that the waitress had left when she seated them, and eyed her face while she contemplated the information.

"So, I can't call you Officer?"

"You can call me whatever you want."

She smiled down at the table, shaking her head. She looked almost bashful and he enjoyed seeing that side of her. She was usually the one in control of the situation and he liked the way it felt when he saw he had an effect on her; making her giggle, making her blush. He wanted to find ways to do it again and again.

They ordered and received their drinks quickly, given how busy the restaurant was. When the waitress returned for their food order Rick deferred to Michonne and she chose a few different plates for them to share, explaining each one as they arrived. He tried all of them, enjoying even the ones he couldn't pronounce, but he was thankful she chose at least one that was some version of steak.

Sharing food was a highly arousing activity, he found. Their fingers touched frequently as she showed him how to combine the ingredients splayed out on the tiny plates. She leaned over the table to reach the dishes that were set on his side, entering and exiting his personal space many times throughout the meal. It was a very enjoyable way to eat, even if he wasn't sure what he was eating. By the time they had finished all of the different plates, her right leg, crossed daintily over her left, had settled comfortably against the inside of his and she leaned forward, her arms on the table, challenging him to keep his eyes on her face. He found himself sitting perfectly still, not wanting to inadvertently lose the contact by shifting in his seat. There seemed to be a million reasons for their bodies to touch; her hand on his when she laughed at a joke, his fingers wrapped around hers as she handed him a napkin. He felt as if the table between them was a mile long, he needed to be closer.

When the waitress returned and offered dessert or another round of drinks, he tried to keep the pleading look from his face as he waited for her to decide how much longer they were going to do this. Looking at her gorgeous face that he had studied so many times before and enjoying their easy conversation that had nothing to do with getting to know each other, he realized they had been on a first date for the last four months. He wanted to get to the next part, to pick up where they had left off a week ago.

"I'm all set, if you are," she said, seemingly coming to the same conclusion.

He nodded at the waitress and she left to fetch their bill, leaving him to wonder which one of them was going to suggest heading home first. He had already laid his cards on the table about where he hoped they would end up and he was hoping she would help him out.

"Where to now?" she said with a smile that told him she wanted to make him wonder for a bit longer.

"What would you like to do?" he said, not letting her off the hook yet.

She stared at him for a moment, making him watch as she decided their fate. "It's early...but maybe too cold to keep walking around town."

He nodded silently, holding her gaze. She was forcibly denying her face a smile and he knew he would be rewarded if he held on just a moment longer.

"We could go back to my place. Maybe watch a movie," she finally offered.

"My place is closer," he said in almost a whisper. She accepted his invitation with a single nod before setting her grin free.

He paid the bill as quickly as possible and they headed back down the street to the car, making much better time than they had on the way in. They stopped in front of the passenger side and he unlocked it from behind her, placing his hand on the door before she could open it. Unable to resist, he dipped his head over her shoulder and pressed his lips to her cheek. She turned against his arm, facing him, with her back against the car and he pushed forward capturing her lips. His hand slipped into her coat and around her waist as she returned his kiss and allowed him to press her into the door. She reached up, stroking his cheek with her fingers in an effort to slow him down. He pulled away, reaching behind her to find the door handle while keeping his eyes on hers. Begrudgingly allowing her to slip into the car, he closed the door and took a few deep breaths before climbing in beside her.

Rick cursed every stop light that slowed their ride back to his house. His mind was already imagining the possible ways their night could unfold. Something told him he wasn't done with new experiences tonight. Michonne was different. He realized this about her almost immediately. She had a confidence that, unlike his, didn't seem to waver. She was the type of woman who knew what she wanted and he wanted nothing more than to find out what that was and give it to her. Lori had never been overly convinced of what she desired from him. He had always had to guess and he often guessed wrong. He briefly wondered if it was just him, if Lori let Philip have her in different ways than he had. Banishing the thought, he reached over and rested his hand on Michonne's knee. She accepted his touch with a smile, covering his hand with hers.

He couldn't have been more right, it turned out. Once they were back at his house all affectation faded away and they happily accepted that they both wanted the same thing; to see exactly what they had been missing since they first met. Rick had a hard time replaying the next few moments in his head. He closed his eyes and tried to remember how they had made their way from the front door to Rick's living room, but he couldn't work it out. He did remember that they quickly absolved themselves of any guilt over skipping the movie and were wrapped around each other on his couch almost immediately. She had managed to slip her coat off before they landed which he was grateful for. He had a bit of a harder time with his. Unwilling to let her go with both hands, he had to wrestle it off one arm at a time and awkwardly throw it off of his shoulders. She giggled into his mouth as he struggled and he immediately forgave the garment for its trouble when he heard the sound.

Finally free, he fell atop of her, burying his face in her neck. He was quickly discovering that it was his favorite place to be. He could taste her, yet her mouth was free to laugh, or gasp or say his name. His hand found the skin between the hem of her dress and the leather of her boot and he sighed at finally having arrived there. The muscles in her leg tightened and softened beneath his touch as she brought her knee up against his side. He placed a kiss on the side of her thigh before turning to find the zipper on the side of her boot. He pulled it down, revealing the rest of her smooth, brown leg. He did the same with the other, pulling both boots off and tossing them to the floor before moving back to find her mouth again. He felt himself harden against his jeans as she slipped her hands into his back pockets, holding him tightly against her.

Michonne was brushing her lips ever so lightly against his ear while pushing her hips forcefully against his. The opposing sensations were delightfully maddening and he had to pull away to catch his breath. He looked in her eyes, letting himself linger there, greedily taking in her features. He had acknowledged her beauty the moment he met her, enjoying the way her skin seemed to reflect hints of pure gold in certain light and the way her body was firm in the places that wanted to be seen and soft in the places that wanted to be touched. He had admired her the way one admires the sunset or a stunning landscape; beauty that existed as part of the world's brilliance not something you get to hold onto.. Now here he was, touching the sun and he needed to make sure it was real.

"Is this ok?" he asked, imploring her with his eyes.

"You're the one that stopped us before," she smiled, sliding her fingers up his back and into his hair.

"I thought you deserved better than a couch," he laughed. "Yet, here we are again."

She giggled again then pressed her mouth to his. "But this time you're not sharing a room with Daryl."

"And we don't have to have breakfast with fifteen of our closest friends in the morning."

"No one here but us."

He pushed himself onto his feet, taking her hand and bringing her with him. "Come on."

Rick rolled over on his stomach and buried his face in the pillow bringing her scent back into his nostrils. This bed had seen ten years of marriage. Lori had loved him here and she had loathed him here. Every night since she left it had felt both desperately empty and unbearably full of ghosts. He had hesitated, just slightly, before he brought Michonne here, considering how it might feel when the memories mixed. He didn't know if Lori and Philip had been together in this bed. He couldn't bare to ask her for details, so he was left to wonder. Now he wondered how it would feel to find pleasure with Michonne in the same spot where so much pain was endured.

As if sensing his struggle, she had slowed their feverish pace, cupping his face and coaxing calm, measured kisses from him, allowing him time to process the step they were taking. Their eyes met and she relinquished control to him, not in a submissive way, but like a loyal soldier following him where he lead. He took her slowly at first, then finally picking up speed as she urged him on with her contented moans and quiet calls of his name. He had been finding ways to be near her for so long, drinking in the strength that she gave him, that once he was inside her he felt like he was invincible. The moment he realized he could have all of her, he found the strength to push out the pain in his heart and pull her in. He no longer felt like he was leaning on her, but like she had given him the ability to stand and then beckoned him to take her with him. He made it his mission to take her wherever she wanted to go. He hadn't just made love to Michonne here, he had worshipped her.

He palmed his phone again, looking back and forth between the clock and her last message to him. Hoping he wouldn't wake her, he gave in and started typing.

" _When can I have you in my bed again?"_

" _Whenever you want, Deputy."_ she responded almost immediately. Rick smiled and finally felt his eyelids become heavy, content to see her in his dreams tonight.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N Hey guys, here's the next chapter! Thanks again for your reviews. I definitely didn't feel pressured in the last chapter, just wanted to get that disclaimer out there in case some of you were waiting for some smut :). I meant it when I said thanks for making me write that date scene. You were right and I so appreciate the feedback, always. That's how we learn! I'm having a blast in this community. You're all great! Hope you like this one. It's heavy on the fluff :)**

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"I can't wait for you to see the tree house, Michonne," Carl called from the back seat "My grandma said she really liked the color."

"Who wouldn't like Quiet Cove in an eggshell finish? I can't wait to see it either."

Michonne sat in the passenger seat of Rick's vehicle, enjoying the distraction of chatting with Carl. Her belly had been teeming with butterflies since Rick picked her up for the drive to his mother's house for lunch. She had already met Rebeccah and found the woman to be warm and friendly, but she was also perceptive. Even though they were still acting as if nothing had changed when Carl was around, she had a feeling Rick's mother would see right through them. She'd alluded to as much when Michonne had returned to the house on Thanksgiving, after sharing a heart to heart with Rick on Hershel's porch. Neither one of them had seen it at the time, but Rebeccah had told her it was good for her to be there, with Rick, and she had been right. Knowing she would be on to them today had her feeling those cliche 'meet the parents' jitters.

Rick glanced over at her, smiling. "It's pretty cold out, Carl. Don't make Michonne stay out in the tree house too long."

"I won't," he complied. "Michonne, did you know Daryl has a crossbow? He said he would teach me to hunt with it in the woods behind my grandma's house."

The boy was talking a mile a minute, obviously enamoured with his additional company for the day. He always got excited when Daryl joined them for meals at his grandmother's house, but having Michonne along too had him especially looking forward to the visit.

"I haven't agreed to that yet, Carl," Rick said.

"You said I can't learn to shoot your gun till I'm twelve, so this would be a good compromise."

"We'll discuss it later."

Carl sighed loudly from the back seat, causing Michonne to chuckle at the two.

Before the argument could continue, Rick pulled off the road and down a long dirt driveway similar to Hershel's. The white, two story house at the end was flanked by a field of grass to the left and a thick tree line to the right. It looked like the perfect place for a boy to run and play and Michonne could see why Carl liked spending so much time here.

Carl jumped out of the car as soon as it was parked and Rick watched him run up the pathway to the front door. When they were alone he turned to Michonne and smiled. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too," she said, genuinely. It was worth a little nervousness to spend time with him and Carl.

"I've been thinking I should tell Carl about us...before he figures it out on his own."

"Do you think he'll be ok with it?" she asked.

"I think he'll be just fine with it," Rick chuckled. "He likes you better than me, too."

"That's not true," she said, playfully.

"Either way, I'll tell him soon. I don't like feeling like I can't touch you when we're together." He reached out and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers.

She smiled back at him, running her thumb along the back of his hand. "You spent four months not touching me when we were together."

"Well, that was a mistake," he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips on her cheek. "I see that now."

Their eyes were glued to each other for a moment until they were interrupted by a rap on the window and spotted Daryl eyeing them with a smirk from Michonne's side of the car. Rick let go of her hand with a roll of his eyes and opened his car door to get out.

Daryl pulled Michonne's door open for her, smiling as she hopped out and avoided his eyes. "What're you two doin'?" he asked slyly, following her around to the front of the car.

"Just headin' in," Rick said with a sideways glare. He motioned for Daryl to go ahead of him and fell into step with Michonne, taking the long path up to the front porch.

"Hi there!" Rebeccah greeted, rushing out the door to meet them as they crested the steps. She still wore an apron, wrapped around a white blouse and dark blue slacks, indicating that she had been hard at work in the kitchen. Her shoulder length, white hair was loose today, giving her a much less formal look than when Michonne had met her on Thanksgiving. The woman had a softer frame than her son, who was firm from head to toe and Michonne noted her curves looked like they were the kind born from a happy and content life.

She gave Daryl and Rick both a quick hug, then turned to Michonne with much more enthusiasm, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Rebeccah radiated a nurturing presence that was kind and distinctly maternal and Michonne instantly felt comfortable in her embrace. "It's so good to see you again, Michonne," she beamed. "Please come in."

They entered the spacious foyer and Rick turned to help Michonne with her jacket just as Carl reappeared. "Can I show her the tree house first?" he pleaded. They exchanged a smile and Michonne shrugged her jacket back on.

"Of course," she agreed, following the boy through the kitchen and out the back door.

The other three made their way into the kitchen as well, where trays of food ready to be served, sat on the counter. Daryl leaned against the kitchen sink, helping himself to some cheese from one of the plates.

"Rick, is this a date? You and Michonne?" Rebeccah asked, wasting no time before interrogating her son. She stood directly in front of him, tipping her head up to look him in the eye.

"Mom, I wouldn't bring someone to your house for lunch and call it a date. You know that right?"

"You know what I mean, Rick," Rebeccah sighed, glancing out the window where she could see Michonne expertly climbing the ladder to Carl's tree house.

Daryl laughed at Rebeccah's inquiry as he used the opportunity to continue picking at the food. After walking in on their slumber party last weekend, he hadn't needed to question his partner about the change in his and Michonne's relationship. He had just enjoyed Rick's chipper mood for the week, knowing he would confirm it soon enough.

"Today is not a date," Rick said, being intentionally vague. "And if you make it uncomfortable there won't be a return visit." He slipped away from the wall his mother had trapped him against and went to the refrigerator to grab himself a drink.

"Ok, Rick," she conceded. "I just think she is lovely and I wanted you to know that." She turned back to the window, swatting at Daryl's hand on her way. "Wait until we sit."

…

"This is pretty cool, Carl," Michonne said, surveying the wooden structure built around the thick branches of an old Maple tree. At the center she could stand upright and look through three windows and a door to see the entire back yard. Carl had arranged a few cushions that looked like they used to belong to lawn chairs to create a seating area and she spotted a couple of boxes in the corner that held an arsenal of squirt guns and yard games. She took a seat on one of the cushions and crossed her legs in front of her.

"Thanks! My dad and me have been working on it for a few months. It's finally coming together now that it's too cold to hangout out here." He shrugged at the predicament and took the seat next to her.

"So what do you do up here?" she asked.

"Well, my grandma doesn't let me play videogames when I'm at her house, she says her kids never had them and I can play outside like they did, so I read comic books and practice shooting my BB gun." He pointed out the window to a target that hung on a tree some yards away.

Michonne nodded, looking around again from her new spot on the floor. "You get to come here a lot, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm here a few nights a week, whenever my dad has a late shift. I have my own room and everything. The bus even picks me up here to go to school."

"That's cool. Seems like a fun place to explore. I grew up in the city so I never had a treehouse. I barely even had a yard."

"Really?" Carl asked, quizzically. "My dad grew up here so he showed me all of the cool places to go in the woods and stuff. I can show you some time. Do your parents still live in the city?"

"My dad lives in Virginia now, but still in the city. He likes being close to the museums and markets. He wouldn't know what to do in a place like this where you have to drive half an hour to go shopping." She laughed, remembering her father's confused face when she described the tiny town she now called home. "My mother passed away a few years ago, but she was the same. She loved the busy streets and hustle and bustle of the city."

Carl was quiet for a few minutes, thinking about the complete lack of hustle that surrounded them here. He had only been to the Atlanta a few times. His family had been on a long weekend there once, a few years ago around Christmas time. His mother wanted to see the downtown all lit up, so they had stayed in a hotel and explored the city. He remembered his mom and dad being happy that weekend, smiling and holding hands. They didn't argue about anything, they just laughed and had fun together. It felt like he was remembering two people who didn't exist anymore.

"Sorry to hear about your mom," he said.

Michonne smiled warmly at him. "Thanks, Carl."

Carl shifted in his seat, turning so his shoulders faced Michonne and cocked his head to the side as if he was impersonating his father.

"Michonne, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Do you like my dad?" he asked, his blue eyes trained on hers.

Michonne froze, her mouth dropping open just slightly as she tried to catch up with the turn he had just taken. "Um...of course, Carl. I like your dad very much."

"I mean do you _like_ him. Like...are you his girlfriend?"

Michonne shifted her body on her cushion, her fingers nervously playing with the small gold chain around her neck. She thought back to Rick's suggestion that Carl might catch on to them sooner rather than later, but she was still not prepared to have been outed after one night. They had been acting very casually on the way here, as far as she was concerned. She stared back at him, letting a few moments pass as she chose her words.

"Your dad and I are close," she started. "We understand each other in a special way...and we like each other very much." She could feel her cheeks burning as she stumbled through her explanation, wishing like hell that Rick was the one handling this.

"It's just that over New Year's I heard Shane call you 'Rick's girlfriend' when he was talking to Abraham. It sounded like he was kidding, but it seems like maybe you are."

Michonne looked up at the ceiling, inwardly cursing the two men, then settled her gaze back on his face. "Your dad and I are more than just friends," she relented, knowing it was pointless to try to deny it. Rick had planned on telling him anyway so she saw no reason to be anything other than truthful. "I just...I feel a little old to use that term."

Carl furrowed his brow. "How old _are_ you?" he snorted.

She tilted her own head, mirroring him. "Not that old, kid" she said with a fake scowl.

"Does my grandma know?"

"Oh, Carl," she laughed. "I have no idea who knows what anymore. I do know your dad cares how you feel about this...me and him. I care too."

He was quiet again, his gaze dropping to his feet, stretched out before him. She searched his face for a sign as to what he was thinking. Despite the cold, she could feel her palms start to gather sweat as she tried to guess whether his silence was an indication of reflection or disapproval. Finally, after keeping her guessing long enough, his mouth turned upwards into a wide grin. "It's cool," he said. "I figured that's why you were here."

She let out the breath she had been holding and grinned back at him. "Look kid, I like you and your dad a lot, but let's get something straight, I'm here for the food."

Carl laughed and scrambled to his feet. "Let's go back," he said, offering his hand to help her up. They climbed down the ladder and she followed him as he started across the grass back to the house.

"Can I tell my grandma?" he asked, turning over his shoulder at her with a smile.

"Let's let your dad have some of the fun," she smirked, making a note to make sure Rick handled that before Rebeccah cornered her too.

…

When Michonne and Carl returned they found Rick and Daryl comfortably seated on Rebeccah's couch, listening to two men on the television argue about the talent of the football teams that were about to face off. Rebeccah glided around the dining room table in the adjoining room, placing bowls and spoons at each place setting. She obviously delighted in her hostess duties and Michonne smiled, remembering the way her own mother would relish any chance she got to feed her adult children. She and her brother had spent many similar Sunday afternoons at their parent's house when her mother was alive. They'd eat and laugh; naturally reverting back to the familiar roles of parents and children, siblings. She stole a glance at Rick, his arm easily slung over the back of the couch, one foot resting on the coffee table in front of him, and she understood that he also felt quite at home here in his mother's house and that Daryl had obviously earned a place as part of their family.

"I made a roast chicken and vegetable soup for lunch," Rebeccah said to Michonne as Carl ran ahead to grab a seat with the men. "And there are finger sandwiches as well, since I know these boys are always starving."

"Sounds wonderful. What can I do to help?"

Rebeccah turned toward her and placed her hands on her hips, the familial resemblance to her son peeking out in her stance. She blew a breath upwards that lifted the wisps of white bangs that fell in her face and smiled. "I think I'm just about done," she said, giving the table a once over. "Why don't you be the one to tell them to turn the game off and I'll bring in the soup?"

Michonne agreed with a nod and a smile and set off for the living room.

Once the men had dragged themselves away from the television and assembled in the dining room, everyone found a seat. Rick pulled out the chair beside his for Michonne, and Carl snuck her a conspiratorial look, making her face flush.

After ladling heavy helpings of soup into everyone's bowls, Rebeccah perched elegantly on the chair at the head of the table. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and she placed her napkin in her lap before picking up her spoon. Her eyes passed between Rick and Michonne, smiling whenever they spoke to one another.

"So fill me in on your holiday trip," Rebeccah said, looking at Rick with expectant eyes. "How are Tyreese and Karin? And what about Shane? Is he still seeing Andrea?"

"Ty's good," Rick answered, in between spoonfuls of soup. "Shane and Andrea are currently together."

"And Maggie and Glenn were there of course. Another year gone by without an engagement announcement from them. I thought for sure Hershel would be planning that by now."

"They're still young. Let 'em do some living first."

Rebeccah quieted, knowing her son was speaking from experience. He and Lori had married young and they had spent their marriage growing up and growing apart. She knew it was something he dwelled on often. Sensing his mood shift, she decided to focus on Daryl. "And how about you," she said, gesturing to him as he chewed. "Did you bring that Stephanie girl?"

Michonne's ears perked up, wondering if maybe Stephanie was one of the girls who donated her beer to her and Rick that night. Daryl shifted in his seat, his eyes glancing up at Michonne before answering. "Nah, ain't seen her in awhile."

"Oh," Rebeccah said with a slight pout.

"You got anything else to talk about besides everyone's love life?" Rick asked in an attempt to help his friend. He immediately regretted the assistance when Rebeccah's eyes passed pointedly between him and Michonne and he realized he had inadvertently called attention back to himself.

"Of course," Rebeccah said with an exaggerated smile, deciding not to embarrass her son. "Tell me about work then." She took another sip of soup and settled her hands back on her lap.

Daryl finished chewing and leaned back in his chair. "Got court tomorrow. Those guys from Thanksgiving weekend."

Michonne looked at Rick who was still spooning soup into his mouth. "Yeah?"

He nodded while he finished swallowing. "Yeah, this one's going to be slow going. Lawyer seems hell bent on dragging it through all the motions. D.A. wants to get them to bargain. Get some information out of them and try to nip this in the bud, but they haven't cracked yet."

"You think they're the ones responsible for the drug flow into town?" Michonne asked, looking back and forth between both men.

"This thing is bigger than these guys. Much bigger than Meryl." Daryl wiped at his mouth with a napkin and set it on his now empty plate. "They're probably scared to talk."

"They know something. Either they give us a lead or they go to jail and the operation is down two more men. It's a win no matter how it goes down," Rick said with a smile. "I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow. For now let's forget about these guys." He glanced at Carl who had a worried look on his face.

"Just please be careful, boys," Rebeccah said as she stood to clear her plate.

"Yeah, dad," Carl said quietly. "Be careful."

…

When the dishes had all been cleared Daryl and Carl headed to the living room to get back to the game while Rebeccah busied herself with setting cookies on a platter in the kitchen. Michonne lingered at the table, hoping Rick would notice and stay back so they could talk. He carried the remainder of the sandwiches into the kitchen and placed them into the fridge at his mother's direction, then sauntered back in, reclaiming his seat beside her.

"So...Carl knows…" she said quietly, turning over her shoulder to make sure no one could hear them.

He raised an eyebrow at her, not picking up what she was trying to tell him.

"In the tree house...he asked me if I was your girlfriend."

Rick's eyes started to crinkle into a smile that he tried to hide on his lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, not surprised that he found this amusing.

"What did you say?"

"I tried to be vague but he said he overheard Shane and Abraham saying something and, well, he had already figured it out. There was no sense in denying it." She sighed, feeling as if she was rambling.

He couldn't contain his grin anymore. "Looks like I got out of that one pretty easy."

Michonne swatted his arm, playfully. "I guess you did. Can you make sure that you don't let that happen again?" she asked, tipping her head toward the kitchen where Rebeccah was humming as she worked.

"You want me to go tell her right now? It'd make her day."

"No...Rick. I didn't mean...not now," she stammered. "Just...before the next time?"

"Of course," he assured her with a smile. "I've never seen you flustered before." His eyes darted around her face with enjoyment. Michonne always seemed so at ease that he couldn't help but marvel at this side of her. He watched as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, his amused grin seeming to make her squirm even more.

"I'm not flustered," she lied. "I was just caught off guard. I don't know what I would have done if he had been upset."

"So, he was okay with it?"

"Yes," she said with a smile and a little more confidence. "You should probably still talk to him, but he was okay with it."

He nodded, thinking about his son's obvious affection for Michonne. He was glad Carl knew and he hadn't expected it to go any other way. "Well, I guess if he already knows, you can just come home with us tonight." He slid his hand onto her knee under the table and stroked it with his thumb.

"We both have to work tomorrow," she said with narrowed eyes. She could already tell he was going to be a bad influence on her when it came to getting her beauty sleep.

"We work two buildings away. We can ride in together."

"I have to be in an hour before you."

"I'll go in early."

Michonne found his persistence adorable but she knew he should still have his own conversation with Carl before she started staying over when he was there. "Talk to him first," she said firmly.

"Ok. You win. But he's staying here tomorrow night so…" He slid his hand farther up her thigh as his words trailed off.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," she laughed, covering his hand with hers to stop his progress.

"Alright," he said. "Tomorrow." He leaned in and placed a quick kiss to her lips, letting his forehead linger on hers for a moment.

"Oh! Um...don't mind me," Rebeccah sputtered, as she stood in the archway to the dining room, holding a plate of dessert. "I'm just passing through." She put a hand up to her brow, blocking her view of them and quickly scurried past, disappearing into the living room.

Michonne felt her cheeks burning and she dropped her head into her hands. "Rick!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled by her palms.

He laughed out loud. "See, that was easy."

She peeked out at him over her fingers, giving him a completely exasperated look. She was met with the adorable grin he seemed to be wearing a lot lately. "Yes, this has been very easy for you," she simpered.

"I'm sorry," he laughed. "Want me to be the one to tell Deanna?"

"Oh my God" she sighed, praying he was kidding.

His laugh dwindled and he was left with a grin that hung on just one side of his mouth. "Hey, at least this time people will be talking about something I did right for once."

She looked back up at him, her irritation dissipating at his earnest words. He was right. He'd earned the right to be open about his happiness, and so had she. Feeling emboldened, she allowed him to take her hand and they stood to make their way into the living room where the others waited.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N Hi everyone! Here is the next chapter. So, I was starting to approach my original thoughts on where to end this story, but Sophiasown on TITTD asked me so nicely to write their entire life story, that I reworked it a bit. I can't promise to write all she asked for :) but I decided to develop some of the subplot to keep the story going. Hope you like it. The police work part is a new genre for me so let me know what you think, if you find it interesting. Also, thanks so much for all the love on Tumblr and in your reviews. You guys are great. I honestly get stupid smiley when I get an email with a review lol. XOXOX**

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Michonne pulled the collar of her teal, woolen pea coat up around her neck as she clicked down the cement steps of the tall brick building that housed the Mayor's office, as well as all of the other official departments in the small town. The temperature had dipped below the seasonal average and she couldn't help but think they were all being punished for the gloriously long summer that she had reveled in. She glanced down at her phone in her hand and saw that she was a few minutes early, so she slowed her pace and thumbed through the screen to pull up her email as she hovered in front of the broad, wooden doors to the courthouse next door. She thought about sending Andrea a text alerting her to her premature arrival but, since she had to wait for Maggie who was finishing up a meeting, she figured she could bare the cold a few more minutes and keep working.

She relaxed against the iron railing that lined the steps to her friend's office and continued scrolling through messages from her colleagues. She was just about to hit reply on a message from Deanna when she heard a loud siren pierce through the cold air and a bright blue light flashed across her face.

"You got somewhere to be? Cause there ain't no loitering in front of the courthouse." Daryl's gravelly voice echoed on the stone surfaces that surrounded them.

She smiled as she approached the cruiser, dipping her head to see Rick sitting in the passenger seat. "Funny. I could probably ask you the same thing," she said. "Don't you have some crime to stop?"

"Had to leave it to Shane this morning. We're just getting out of court." Rick leaned forward to speak around his partner.

"How'd it go?" she asked, resting her forearms on Daryl's open window and leaning toward the heat that was coming from the cabin of the cruiser.

"Lotta lawyer speak, not a lot of action." Daryl muttered.

"What're you doin' out here?" Rick asked after nodding in agreement with Daryl.

"Maggie and I are meeting Andrea for lunch. I'm the only one on time."

Rick smirked. "Sounds right. You wanna wait in here where it's warm?"

"No," she smiled sweetly. "You do your thing. They'll be along."

"Alright. I'll see you later?"

"You will," she agreed, ignoring Daryl's gaze flitting amusedly back and forth between them.

"Enjoy your lunch," Daryl called as he put the cruiser in gear.

Michonne waved as they pulled away, spotting Maggie finally catching up to her.

"I was hoping the car would be ready!" she shivered. "Where's Andrea?"

Michonne gestured to the courthouse and they both settled back against the railing to resume the wait.

…

Andrea pointed across the street at their destination as she stepped out of the car. The small cafe looked like it only held a handful of tables but showed no signs of being busy at the moment, so they figured they could get in and out in their now shortened lunch hour. Maggie and Michonne followed her across the painted crosswalk and ducked into the front door, settling on a booth in front of the window that they had just been looking into.

Michonne removed her scarf and coat as she slid into the booth next to Maggie and across from Andrea who was passing out menus from the stand on the table.

"So what's new, girls?" Maggie asked as she examined the laminated page of daily specials, tucked inside of one of the menus. She was still wearing her jacket, unable to shake the chill from outside.

Michonne started to speak but was interrupted by Andrea's urgent voice. "Michonne and Rick went on a date Friday." Andrea spit the words out as if they were burning a hole in her mouth.

"Andrea!" Michonne exclaimed rolling her eyes at her friend.

"What? You said it wasn't a secret." Andrea said with a shrug.

Maggie's eyes were wide, staring back and forth between the women. She wanted the rest of the story but she wasn't sure if Michonne was actually angry Andrea brought it up.

"Should I just have Maggie draw up a press release for you to hand out?" Michonne sighed.

"That would make it easier. Just give us all the details and we will put something together."

Maggie stayed silent for a few minutes, watching the two friends spar. She could tell by Michonne's reaction that the information was true, but Andrea was terrible at this. Michonne would never reveal anything now that she was on the defensive. You'd think a prosecutor would be better at this kind of thing, Maggie thought.

"I think that's great, Michonne. You two are good together." Maggie went back to reading the menu, making out as if she was dropping it.

Michonne's shoulders softened a bit and she picked up her own menu, glancing once more at Andrea before dropping her eyes to the book in front of her.

A bright, bouncy red head arrived at their table to take their drink orders and the three sat in silence for a few more moments as they scanned their lunch choices. When the waitress dropped off two iced teas and a water and left with their food order, Maggie turned again to Michonne. "So what did ya'll do? On your date?" she asked, as casually as she could.

Michonne eyed Maggie for a moment, deciding the question was harmless compared to the inquisition she had received from Andrea. "We went to dinner and then...watched a movie," she lied.

"And she slept there." Andrea sipped her tea while smirking across the table.

"Why are you like this?" Michonne glared at her friend. "Just because you insist on giving us unsolicited details about you and Shane doesn't mean the rest of us want to share our personal business."

"Welcome to small town America, Michonne. There is no such thing as personal business."

As Maggie was trying to stifle a laugh with a sip of her water she heard the bell on the door of the small cafe ringing a greeting and looked up to spot the newest guest entering. "Oh my gosh," she whispered, almost choking on her water. She slid low in her seat to hide her face and reached across the table to smack Andrea's arm before pointing.

Andrea turned over her shoulder and Michonne's gaze followed, falling on a tall, thin brunette in a dark blue dress. She wore a camel colored coat and, despite the relative cloudiness of the day, a pair of sunglasses which she was pushing up onto the top of her head.

"Ha!" Andrea exclaimed. "Exhibit A as to how hard it is to keep a secret around here."

Michonne furrowed her brow, not understanding the reference or why both of her friends were staring.

As if she could feel their eyes on her, the woman turned toward their table and settled her gaze directly on Maggie, still slumped in the booth. A flash of annoyance appeared on the woman's face before her mouth turned upward in what had to be the most disingenuous smile Michonne had ever seen. She strode toward them purposefully, looking as though she was resigned to getting their inevitable interaction over with.

"Maggie. Andrea," she said, as she approached the table, nodding in each of their directions.

"Lori," Maggie replied, making no attempt at feigned amenity. "What are you doing here? They don't have any restaurants in Woodbury?"

Andrea chuckled as Lori sighed and crossed her arms. Michonne stared up at her, completely unprepared for the interaction. Not that she had really thought about meeting Rick's ex-wife, but if she had, this would not have been her guess as to how it would happen.

"I grew up here, Maggie. You don't have a claim on the town," Lori replied, as if the younger woman's words had no effect on her. They stared at each other for a moment, silently arguing about how uncomfortable they were going to make this. "Besides," Lori finally began again. "My mother had hip replacement surgery and she needs my help, so I'm going to be around for a little while." She glanced back and forth between Maggie and Andrea watching them scowl at her words before suddenly turning her attention to Michonne. "I'm Lori," she said offering her hand.

"Michonne," she replied, stopping short of the standard 'nice to meet you.' She smiled politely as she shook Lori's hand and Lori nodded.

"Does Rick know?" Maggie interrupted. "That you're back in town? Or Carl?"

"I called Rick over the holiday, but he...had to go before I could tell him." Lori thought of the unpleasant conversation with her ex-husband, knowing that Maggie was probably there to hear it or at least witness the aftermath. "I'm sure I can count on you to fill him in."

"You do love letting him find stuff out the hard way," Andrea said, matching Lori's fake smile.

"Well, I'm just picking up lunch for my mother," Lori said, ignoring the remark. "I'd better get going. Ya'll enjoy your meal." She turned on her heel and walked to the other side of the cafe to pay for her takeout.

When she was out of earshot, Maggie turned to Michonne with wide eyes. "Well, that was awkward."

"A little bit."

"Do you think she could tell?" Maggie whispered, turning now to Andrea.

"Tell what?"

"About Rick and Michonne?"

"No, Maggie," Andrea chuckled. "I don't think she could tell Michonne is sleeping with her ex-husband from a handshake and a hello."

Maggie's eyes shot back to Michonne to find her glaring at Andrea's assumption.

"Well, he's not gonna be happy to hear about this," Maggie said, turning back to her drink.

…

Daryl slowed the cruiser as he spotted Shane waving to them from outside of the pharmacy on Main Street where they had just been called to respond to what appeared to be an attempted robbery. Once he had maneuvered into a parking spot, he and Rick hopped out and made their way over to their friend.

"What'a ya got?" Rick asked, settling his hands on his hips and glancing around the scene.

"Pharmacist says a kid, 'round mid twenties, came in brandishing a weapon, demanding the cash and some pills." Shane gestured through the open front door to the long counter where an older man in a white coat stood talking to another officer. "Kid got spooked when another customer came in and took off running."

"So, amatuer hour," Daryl snarked.

"Yeah, looks that way. Didn't make off with anything and no one was hurt but pharmacist says he was real desperate looking. Agitated, shaking. Says the kid looked like he had never held a gun before in his life."

An image of the overweight, bald man that had his gun to Maggie and Michonne came into Rick's head. He too had seemed nervous and unsure, compared to the man who held Rick. "Seems like a lot of newly minted criminals roaming the streets lately."

"All looking for quick cash," Daryl said, picking up on Rick's train of thought.

"We gotta talk to your guy," Rick said to his partner. "The one who told you about the trouble they were having with Meryl being gone. Find out who's running the show in his absence."

Daryl nodded. "We also oughta pay old Meryl himself a visit. He ain't givin' anyone up on purpose, but he's slipped before."

Rick returned Daryl's nod and turned to Shane. "You good here?"

"Yeah, brother. I'm just gonna talk old man Horvath down from the ledge and get started looking at the security footage. I'll let you know what I come up with." Shane tipped his hat at his fellow officers and headed back into the store to chat with the shaken pharmacist.

"You drive," Daryl said, tossing the keys to Rick. "I'll make the call."

Rick took the driver's seat starting the car up and putting it into gear as Daryl pulled out his cellphone. He could hear it ringing in his partner's ear before a muffled voice picked up on the other line.

"You got a few?" Daryl asked. "We need to chat." After a few more words back and forth, Daryl hung up and directed Rick off of the main drag and over a few blocks to a parking lot behind the local grocery store.

Rick eased the car beside two tractor trailer trucks that were in the middle of unloading onto a ramp at the back entrance of the store. Two burly men who were ferrying the goods on rolling carts stopped to stare at the marked vehicle as it continued on around the corner, out of their sight. Rick pulled the cruiser beside the building, slowly, until he came upon two dumpsters, side by side, that blocked any exit from that direction. He put the car in reverse and cut the wheel, beginning a series of short turns and back and forths until he had maneuvered back around in the tight spot and settled the nose of the vehicle pointing toward the way they came.

"This is it," Daryl said, settling into his seat to wait for his informant to show.

Moments later a door on the side of the building swung open and a skinny man with a goatee, and long hair pulled into a bun, appeared holding a bag of trash in each of his hands. He strode toward the dumpster without acknowledging the cruiser and tossed the bags into the top, wiping his hands on the red apron he had tied around his uniform of khakis and a dark green polo shirt. After glancing around a couple of times, he slowly sauntered over to Daryl's window as the deputy rolled it down to greet him.

"Who's this?" the man asked, nodding his chin toward Rick.

"My partner. We gotta do this quick so you're talking to both of us today."

Daryl's friend looked Rick up and down and then nodded, turning his attention back to Daryl. "What can I do for you today, Deputy Dixon?"

"You said Meryl being off the street was causing some problems with supply backing up?"

"That's right."

"So what's the fix? Who they got stepping in for him while he rots in his cell?"

"I thought we were pretty clear I wasn't giving up names," the man replied, looking completely unfazed by Daryl's attempt at amending their agreement.

"We've had a bit of a spike in crimes of a certain nature," Rick offered. "Robberies, break-ins, things like that. None of it seems to be the work of any criminal masterminds, so we wanna know: why are these small timers so desperate all of a sudden?"

The long haired man smiled, glancing over his shoulder again. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Rick squinted hard at the man, wondering if his partner was better at deciphering these riddles.

"Prices going up? That the problem?" Daryl asked.

"Look, you got a couple things going on here. Your brother was a link in a chain and now that link is broken. It takes a little more effort to keep business booming. You see a sharp increase in your produce prices, you can guarantee the cost to get it from the field to these shelves went up." He gestured to the grocery store to illustrate his point. "The other piece has less to do with the operations end of things and more to do with management style." The man's blue eyes twinkled as he took the two partners through his metaphor.

Daryl and Rick eyed the man, waiting for him to get to the point.

"Things move slow in the small towns, right? Business is done by way of relationships, common interests. It doesn't work that way everywhere. This place used to be a little mom and pop operation," he reminded them, gesturing again to the building. "You needed time, you took time, you wanted a schedule change, you asked the owner and you worked it out. Then it became a Super Shopper and things changed. The boss isn't your friend anymore, things are done a certain way, no room for favors."

"You're saying we put the local shop out of commission and big business moved to town," Rick said, giving his new friend a hard stare.

"I'm just talking about the grocery business, Deputy. Sure is a shame what happened to this place." He shook his head with a virtuous grin and turned to leave. "Officer Dixon," he called over his shoulder as he walked back to the door. "Give your brother my regards."

Daryl waved dismissively at the man as he disappeared into the employee entrance and Rick started the car out of the alleyway.

"You trust this guy's intel?" Rick asked as he again passed the truck drivers, still toiling away.

"Paul's got an interest in keeping this thing under control."

"What's in it for him?"

"He knows a lot of teenagers in the neighborhood. Troubled kids, one's who ain't got no one looking out for 'em. He used to be one of 'em."

Rick nodded knowing his partner had also been one of those kids. He just as easily could have ended up like Meryl if he hadn't gotten his life together. "Ok, so why the secret meetings then, if he's just an upstanding citizen looking to clean up the streets?"

"He gets the info from the kids. Sometimes it's stuff they hear from their junky parents, sometimes they're the ones doing the buying and selling. Either way, can't have it traced back to them or we lose the info and they're in deep shit."

"So he's like their savior in disguise?" Rick said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well...they do call him Jesus," Daryl replied, flashing Rick a rare smile.

…

"It's a good thing we didn't ride in together!" Michonne declared as she opened her door to let Rick in. She shivered at the cold air that rushed in with him and pulled her unzipped sweatshirt closed.

"I know," he said, slipping a hand around her waist and greeting her with a soft kiss that traveled from her mouth to her neck. "I'm sorry. Didn't think I'd be this late."

"It's okay" she smiled. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," he said as he released her and collapsed onto her couch.

Michonne walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water and a bottle of beer out of her fridge, holding them both up for him to decide. He gestured to the water and she bent to put the beer back, allowing him a perfect view of the tiny shorts she was wearing before she returned with his drink. "Hard day?" she asked as she settled next to him, pulling her bare legs up underneath her.

"Crazy day," he sighed, turning to look at her as he unscrewed the top of the water bottle.

"So tell me about our guys. What's happened in court today?"

Rick laughed, taking a long drink of his water. "Now I see why you let me come over so late on a school night." He reached a hand over to playfully poke her in the side. "You just want information."

"Not true," she smiled, coyly. "I'll show you why I let you come over." She sat up on her knees and threw a leg over his lap, settling in so she was straddling him.

Rick smiled, setting his water bottle on the end table and placing both of his hands on her hips. "Show me."

"After you tell me about court," she smirked.

Rick threw his head back onto the couch and laughed. "Ok. Not a lot went on today. D.A. is still trying to strike a deal but neither one is budging."

"What's the offer?"

"Dropping the robbery and possession charges for info on the source of the drugs they found on them."

"And they won't agree?"

"I think the big guy wants to, but the older guy, Joe, they're charging him with assault on an officer and they're not willing to drop that one. Said it's not a precedent they're willing to set." Rick ran his fingers along the inside of her waistband, trying to coax an end to the shop talk but Michonne seemed unfazed.

"So the big guy won't give anything up unless Joe does."

"Seems Joe is higher up on the food chain. He gives anything up, Joe tells whoever he works for exactly where it came from."

She sat back on her legs and frowned, the memory of the ordeal flashing through her mind. Her hand went to Rick's face, absentmindedly stroking his jaw where she had watched Joe strike him with the gun. "It's going to stay in court for a while, then."

"Yeah, but they're locked up for now. You don't have to worry about running into them again." He ran his hands up and down her legs, finding her skin prickled from the cold and the conversation as she went silent for a moment. He took the opportunity to replay what Daryl's friend had told them that afternoon. He was convinced it all came down to the drugs. People getting mugged, the pharmacy getting hit. Jesus all but confirmed the theory. They needed these guys to talk. "We did get another lead today," he offered. "We're gonna go see Meryl tomorrow, see if he can fill in some blanks."

"Who's Meryl?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Daryl's degenerate older brother. He runs in the same circle."

"The guy from the bank?" she asked, remembering Rick's bandaged hand and yet another injury she'd seen him bare on his face.

"That's the one," he said with a small grin to assuage the worry that was creeping onto her face. "He's behind bars now, though. I should be able to handle him."

"He's involved in this too?"

"He was. Seems I might have done more harm than good, taking him off the street."

"You didn't force him to fight a guy in the middle of the bank."

"No, but assaulting me added some years to what he's looking at. Could have been avoided." Rick looked down, running his hand over his face, looking exhausted. Michonne decided to give him a break from the questions for awhile. She rolled off of his lap and settled into the couch, gently tugging on his arm until he was laying beside her, his head in her lap. She slowly ran her fingers through his hair, smiling when he sighed and let his eyes fall shut.

"Tell me about your day. How was lunch?" he asked, reaching up to unbutton the top of his uniform shirt.

Her fingers came to an abrupt halt as she remembered the other conversation she needed to have with him. She had been so caught up in hearing about his case that she almost forgot about running into Lori.

Rick's eyes opened and he looked up at her, feeling her body stiffen below him. "Not good?"

She began playing with his hair again, hoping to put him back into a state of calm before she said what she had to say. "You haven't heard from Maggie at all today?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"No. Should I have?" he settled back into her lap but kept his eyes open, studying her face. He knew when bad news was coming, it was skill he had honed from many years in his profession.

"During lunch today...we saw...well, Lori was there," she sighed, figuring she should just come out with it.

It was his turn to stiffen as he took in her words. He squinted up at her, trying to figure out how such a coincidence could come about. "Where did you go for lunch? She doesn't live in town anymore. She'd have no reason to…"

"She said she was here visiting her mother." she interrupted, reaching down to place a steady hand on his arm. "Staying with her mother...for awhile."

Despite her attempt at soothing him, he pulled himself up, letting her hand drop and his gaze fall to the floor. His mind instantly went to Carl. The fact that Lori hadn't told him she was going to be in town made him wonder if she was just going to show up and want to see their son. The last thing he wanted was a surprise visit. He wanted to be prepared if he had to see her. His mind began to conjure a vision without his permission; the day Philip had come knocking on his door unannounced, barging in, demanding to speak to Lori. Taking his wife and his whole life with him as he sat, too weak from his injuries to get up and stop him. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, feeling the need to stand.

Michonne stood too, tentatively reaching out for him again. She pressed her fingers to the inside of his arm. "Rick," she said quietly, steadily.

Her voice brought him out of his memory and he looked down at her face. He expected to see fear in her eyes, trepidation at his reaction, but her face was calm. He relaxed his shoulders a little, forcing himself back to the present with her. "I'm ok," he said, willing it to be true.

As if she knew exactly what he had been fearing, she continued, "she said she was going to tell you, when she called on New Year's, but she didn't get the chance. She wasn't trying to keep it from you…if that helps at all."

He nodded. It did help calm his fears but he didn't think Lori deserved any credit for thinking about doing something, even if it was him who hadn't let her speak.

"Anyway, Maggie was the one who spoke to her. I just listened. Maybe you should call her."

He nodded again, suddenly feeling like he wanted the conversation to end anyway possible. "I'm ok," he repeated. "Really." He turned so he was facing her and pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin on the top of her head. He wanted to forget about Lori, about drug dealers and court cases and just be right here, right now.

Michonne slid her arms around his waist, holding him as she waited for his body to relax and tell her what he needed. She felt his shoulders soften first, rounding as he leaned further into her embrace. Then his face fell to her neck and she felt him breathing steadily into her skin. His hands released the fabric of her shirt that he had been clutching and meandered slowly down to her backside. He pushed her sweatshirt aside with his stubbled face until his lips found her bare shoulder.

"Weren't you going to show me why you let me come over," he whispered, in between kissing and gently biting her skin.

"I was," she giggled as he continued to tickle her neck with his face.

He slowly walked them back to the couch and pulled her down onto his lap again. "Michonne?" he asked, whispering into the crook of her neck.

"Yeah?"

"Was Maggie rude to her?"

"A little bit," she replied, unsure what answer he was hoping for.

He paused for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh. "She's a good kid."

"Yes," Michonne agreed, happy and relieved to hear him laugh. "She is."


	19. Chapter 19

A/N Thank you so much to the guest who pointed out that I spelled Merle's name wrong. Ugh, I'm so embarrassed! Note to self: spellcheck doesn't help if you're spelling a different word by accident. Really sorry about that guys. I debated going back and uploading a fixed version of the last chapter but I didn't want you all to get extra notifications. PS I know I also spelled Deanna's name wrong in some places too but I fixed it going forward. Commas and name spelling are my weakness apparently but I will be more careful. Serious face palm going on over here. Anyway, hope you like this update. Please review, even (especially) if it's to correct something! Love!

xxxxx

"Where's Rick?" Daryl asked to anyone who was listening. He strolled over to his desk, noticing he seemed to have beat his partner to the station for the first time in as long as he could remember.

Shane shrugged, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. "Ain't seen him."

"Grimes came in half an hour ago. He's in the locker room," Leon called from the front desk.

Daryl gave the man a nod and took off through the sea of desks to make his way to the door at the back of the room. He navigated down the long hallway, pushing through the double doors that led to an open rectangular room with a small shower area and a bank of pale blue lockers. He spotted Rick pulling a clean uniform shirt off of a hanger and slipping it on over his white t-shirt.

"You sleep here or somethin?" Daryl asked, leaning up against the wall and taking in his partner's morning routine with piqued interest. A pile of crumpled clothes lay at Rick's feet and his hair hung in wet curls on his forehead.

"No, just showered here."

"Uh huh," Daryl nodded, waiting for the rest of the story.

Rick looked up from his buttons to find Daryl's expectant stare. "I stayed at Michonne's last night. Didn't have a change of clothes, so I just came here."

Daryl chuckled quietly at his friend's predicament. "So it's like that now, huh?"

"It is," Rick replied, matter of factly.

"Alright then, get your boots on, Casanova. We gotta head over to see Merle ."

"I'm lookin' forward to it," Rick smirked, taking a seat on the wooden bench to finish dressing.

"Me too, great way to start the day," Daryl snorted. "Though, looks like yours is already off to a good start."

Rick tossed his dirty clothes into his locker and gave Daryl a sideways glance. "I just gotta grab some coffee."

"'Chonne ain't got any coffee at her place?"

"She drinks tea," Rick replied after he had pulled his boots on. "Let's go."

"Damn shame," Daryl scoffed, letting Rick pass in front of him.

After a quick stop in the break room for their morning caffeine, Rick and Daryl made their way out the front door of the Sheriff's office and around the side of the building to the annex that housed the county jail. Merle had stayed here so many times over the past few years that they knew exactly which cell he would be in. It had became habit to shove him in the farthest cell from the front desk, so the guards wouldn't have to listen to him. Merle always had something to say and they were banking on the trait coming in handy at this particular visit.

The guard led them down the cellblock to Merle's home away from home and proceeded to place his cuffs around Merle's wrists while the two waited.

"Seems a bit formal for a visit from my baby brother," He said, smirking at the guard. "You scared I'm gonna try something, Daryl? Or you just wanna make sure Grimes doesn't get hurt again if he has another one of his...incidents? That's what they call 'em right?"

"Play nice, Merle. This is your only chance to get out of that cell till your trial." Daryl grabbed his brother's arm and pushed him ahead toward the end of the hall where a small meeting room stood.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure, Officers?" Merle asked as he dropped into the chair Rick held out.

The two partners took their seats across from him and Daryl started. "Heard you got some friends in here with ya. How y'all know each other?"

"Come on now, brother. We both know you didn't just hear about it. You two were there, right? Heard it was quite the scene downtown on Thanksgiving weekend." Merle glanced back and forth between Rick and Daryl waiting for them to confirm. "Lucky for me, despite my new digs, the local Gazette still keeps me up to date on my two favorite Deputies." Merle flashed them a sinister smile and ran his tongue along his discolored front teeth.

"Alright," Rick said, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. "We've met 'em. How about you? How long have you been working with these guys?"

Merle snickered, sniffing loudly through his nose before answering. "Now why would I go and respond to a loaded question like that, Rick?"

Rick sat up straighter and dropped his elbow onto the table, gesturing with his hand. "See Merle, it looks to us like you're losing your market share while you rot away in this cell," he said. "One of those guys down the hall isn't from around here, so someone's moving in on your territory. You've got to have some feelings on the matter."

Merle laughed heartily, glancing over at his brother first, then training his eyes on Rick. "You boys ain't got no idea what you're getting yourselves into. Shit, those guys roughing up your pretty face, Grimes? That was just them ringing the doorbell."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daryl asked, growing impatient with his brother's vague answers.

"It means I was keeping shit under control for you boys. You've gone and removed the God damned voice of reason."

"So you were doing us some sort of favor? Just a local drug dealer with a heart of gold." Rick let his face slip into a smile at the insinuation.

"You laugh it up. You'll see." Merle set his cuffed wrists on the table between them and leaned forward, quieting his voice. "These guys? The ones who are moving in on my territory? They ain't worried about a couple small town cops like you. You oughta just save yourselves the trouble and accept that the tide has turned. You two ain't got the stones for what's after me." He pounded his fists on the table and laughed again. "You're out of your league, boys."

Rick glowered across the table at his partner's deadbeat brother. He didn't trust Merle as far as he could throw him but his ambiguous details were fitting the same narrative Jesus gave them.

Daryl stood, rapping his knuckles on the small window on the door to the meeting room. The guard returned and wordlessly grabbed Merle's elbow to lead him back to his cell. Rick remained seated as Daryl exchanged a parting nod with his brother before closing the door behind them.

"Sounds like he's singing the same tune as Jesus," Daryl muttered. "We gotta get a name, maybe from those two pricks down the hall or work on tracking the kid from the pharmacy break in."

"Shane's workin' on that but if these guys are as serious as Merle says, we can't threaten 'em with anything worse than what they'll get if they talk."

"So what's the plan?"

Rick pushed his chair out and stood, gesturing for Daryl to follow as he headed for the door. "We need to have a conversation with the Sheriff. Let him know this is getting bigger. But, for now, we've got patrol. Let's go."

…

Michonne followed Rick up the steps to his mother's porch, turning to admire the way the evening sky displayed a beautiful array of pinks and purple beyond her wide, open yard. The yellow porch light had been switched on and the yellow glow it cast upon Rebeccah's brick-red front door reminded her of a warm fire flickering against the cold evening air. Everything about the home Rick had grown up in felt comfortable, cheerful.

They hadn't seen each other since Rick left her house a few mornings ago, and it had been even longer since she had seen Carl. She was delighted when Rick invited her to come along to pick him up from his stay at his grandmother's house. It seemed unnatural now, to go days without seeing each other and she smiled to herself remembering it had been less than two weeks since their friendship evolved into this. Everything had changed, and yet it felt like it had been this way forever.

Rick pushed the door open, calling out for his mother and Carl as they entered the foyer. He didn't move to help her with her coat, so she assumed he planned on being quick. Carl came rushing around the corner as soon as he heard his dad's voice and stopped short when he spotted Michonne. "Hey!" he said excitedly, a broad smile gracing his face.

"Hey, Carl."

"Dad didn't tell me you were coming."

"Michonne's going to join us for dinner tonight, if that's ok with you," Rick said, with a knowing grin.

"Of course it's ok!" Carl exclaimed. "I'll get my stuff." He took off up the stairs as Rebeccah finally made her way to the door to greet them. She was again wrapped in an apron looking as if they had interrupted her evening routine. She smiled genuinely though, revealing that she was happy to see them, regardless.

"You're early," she noted, reaching up to hug her son.

"Got out on time for once."

Rebeccah turned to Michonne. "Well, I can see why. It's so good to see you again, Michonne," Rebeccah gushed, hugging her next. "Would you all like to stay for dinner?"

"We're going to grab some pizzas and have a movie night with Carl," Rick responded as his son came back down the stairs, carrying his overnight bag.

"Really, Dad? Pizza again?" he sighed as he came to stand next to Michonne.

"It was my idea, actually," Michonne admitted. "But if you want something else…"

"No!" Carl exclaimed. "That sounds great!"

Rick tilted his head at his son, furrowing his brown. "Really?"

"Come on," Carl instructed, grabbing Michonne's hand and heading toward the door. "Thanks grandma! See you next week."

"Thanks, mom," Rick said, turning to catch up with them.

"Of course!" Rebeccah called, staring after them and grinning from ear to ear.

…

"Ok, how about one of the _Saw_ movies?" Carl held up three DVD cases, fanning them out so that the grotesque cover art was visible.

Michonne raised an eyebrow and gave the boy a hard stare. "You expect me to eat while watching that?"

Carl sighed and turned back to the rack of movies that stood next to the TV. Rick chuckled as he set his arm around Michonne's shoulder and settled back into the couch with his plate on his lap.

" _Halloween_?" he called, holding the DVD up over his shoulder.

"Really?" Michonne asked.

"Man, this is harder than trying to watch a movie with mom." Carl mumbled. He froze as soon as the words left his mouth and turned slowly to look at his father, finding him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn't meant to mention his mother so casually and he braced himself for the moment when his dad would make an excuse and leave the room, like he always did. "I mean...it's just, we don't have a lot of girl movies…"

Rick gave the boy a sympathetic smile and tightened his grip on Michonne's shoulder, remaining rooted to his seat. "Just find something with less blood, Carl," he said.

"Alright," Carl replied, looking back and forth between his father and Michonne, cautiously. They both seemed to be composed despite his slip so he settled back into his task. He thumbed through the rack of movies again, pulling another from the shelf. " _Avengers: Age of Ultron_? No blood."

"Perfect," Michonne smiled, letting the awkward moment pass.

Carl popped the disc into the player and settled on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, helping himself to a large slice of vegetable topped pizza.

"You're gonna eat that with no complaints, huh?" Rick smiled as he watched his son dig into Michonne's dinner choice.

Carl shrugged with a mouth full of pizza. "Why wouldn't I?" It was a far cry from the three meat special he and his father usually split, but he liked it enough.

Rick turned back to Michonne to find her smiling into her slice. He wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of getting Carl to eat more vegetables by ordering them on top of their pizza, but he was impressed she had.

"So who's Ultron again?" Rick asked, gesturing at the title screen while he waited for the movie to start.

"He's the bad guy. The one in the grey suit." Michonne patted Rick's knee as she explained it to him.

"He looks a lot like Iron Man," Rick continued in between bites.

"Iron man is red, Dad. Are you going to talk through the whole movie?"

Michonne chuckled at Carl's irritation and turned to Rick, placing a finger against her lips to playfully shush him.

He glanced down to see Carl still had his eyes on the screen and snatched her hand from her face and brought it to his lips, causing her to giggle.

"Seriously, guys," Carl sighed again.

Rick shook his head at her in feigned admonishment and she sent him one last glare before turning back to the TV.

Two pizzas and a movie later, Carl grabbed the remote to stop the ever scrolling roll of film credits, signaling what was likely his bedtime. He pressed stop and then navigated to the cable TV listings, deciding to press his luck. "What's next?" he asked, avoiding looking at his father, hoping to sneak a few more minutes out of the night.

"Don't you have school tomorrow?" Michonne answered, to his surprise.

Carl turned around to see Rick with his head leaned against the back of the couch, fast asleep with his arm still around Michonne's shoulder. "Oh my God. He always does this," Carl sighed.

Michonne smirked at Rick for a minute, then turned back to Carl. "He works long hours, Carl. And he has a stressful job."

"Your job isn't stressful?" he asked with a glint in his eye.

"Ok, maybe he's just lame," she laughed.

"Are you staying here tonight?"

Michonne bristled a bit at his frank inquiry and glanced back at Rick who was, once again, getting out of the tough questions. "I wasn't planning on it. I have to work tomorrow."

"It's ok if you do," Carl smiled, sensing her discomfort. "I know you probably have before, when I'm at my grandma's. Did you stay here last night?"

Michonne frowned at him now, getting the feeling he was finding some amusement in making her squirm. "Actually, I didn't and I think it's getting to be your bedtime."

Carl chuckled, knowing he'd been caught, and stood to shut the TV off. He grabbed the empty pizza boxes and plates and ferried them into the kitchen, returning to see Michonne slipping on her boots.

"Alright," Carl sighed. "Good night, Michonne. I'm glad you came over tonight."

"Me too," she smiled.

"Oh and by the way..." He gestured at his sleeping father, "He's your problem now."

Michonne reached behind her and grabbed a small pillow off the couch, tossing it at him as he scurried up the stairs with a laugh. "Go to bed!" she called after him.

Figuring Rick didn't have to work in the morning, and there was no way she was dragging him into his room, she knelt down beside him and pulled his boots off one by one. She had been firm that she wasn't staying over, but looking at him now, his hair disheveled from slumber and the bottom of his shirt untucked, she was starting to wish she had agreed to it. He was gorgeous, she thought, taking all of him in. It was usually his facial expressions that captivated her. He had so many that were just his; the way his smile formed on one side of his mouth first, before spreading across his face. The way his lips parted just slightly when he was concentrating. And those eyes, of course. He had the most intense stare she had ever seen. Watching him sleep however, eyes closed and face still, was proving just as enjoyable. But she had to go home. She promised herself she wouldn't make it a habit of giving in to his sleepover requests or she would never want to sleep alone again.

She lifted his legs onto the couch and he barely stirred. She had only slept beside him a handful of times but she knew he was a fitful sleeper. She had woken more than once the night he stayed with her, thinking he was awake, but realizing he was mumbling in his sleep, or moving as if he was conscious. Tonight he seemed dead to the world and she noted that even asleep he looked exhausted. She pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over him, reaching over to flip off the light on the end table. She reached down and ran a hand through his hair, pressing her lips to his forehead.

"Goodnight, Rick," she whispered, before reluctantly turning and heading for the door. Maybe she would say yes to his next invitation, she mused.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N Hey everyone, can't believe I'm posting the 20th chapter of this story. Thanks so much for continuing to read and review! I appreciate your support!**

 **XXXXXX**

The rain was coming down in sheets, drenching Rick's clothes as he hurried up the dark driveway to Michonne's house. He lifted his fist to knock just as the door flung open and she grabbed him by both arms, pulling him inside. He started to greet her, but as soon as she shut the door behind them her hands were cupping his face, pulling his mouth to hers. Rick followed her lead, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. He returned the kiss, his tongue pushing into her mouth and his hands roaming her back.

"Hey," she greeted, pulling away to catch her breath. The rain from his shirt was soaking through her white tank top, slowly revealing her to him like a developing photograph.

"Hey," he repeated, reaching a hand up to cup her now almost visable breast. His mouth dropped to her neck as he attempted to revive the pace they had just been setting.

She tipped her head back, granting him better access as he worked his way to her collarbone. Her hands slipped into his wet hair, stroking and tugging at his curls until they were irresistibly tousled. "I missed you," she breathed. He had been working longer hours the past week, trying to get a lead in the case he and Daryl were officially assigned to, and this was the first evening in almost a week that he had been out early enough come over. It was still approaching 8 o'clock by the time he arrived.

"I missed you, too," he said, pausing for only a moment to look her in the eye before returning to his favorite spot.

"I know we saw each other yesterday, at the meeting with the Sheriff, but I missed this." She grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling it free from his pants, and ran her hands underneath it and up his sides.

"Speaking of that," he said, pulling the strap of her tank top down and moving to her shoulder. "Think you could wear pants on days we're gonna be meeting? I could barely concentrate with you in that tight little skirt." His hands moved to her thighs, picturing her sitting in the chair across from him, crossing and uncrossing her legs as he was attempting to present his theories on the case to Deanna.

She giggled at him, pulling his face back up to hers. "I'll see what I can do."

He tried to kiss her again but she held his face still. "Are you hungry? I got dinner."

"Oh, no," he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You started something and we're going to finish it." He grabbed her waist, spinning her away from him and pressed his hips into her from behind, letting her know they had other business to attend to.

She could feel his readiness and she gazed over her shoulder at him, forgetting all about the food she had waiting for them in the kitchen. She reached a hand up behind her, gripping his hair and pulling his head to the back of her neck. Every time with him was different, she mused. He could be gentle, almost reverent at times and adorably playful at others, but she could tell by the tone of his voice that tonight was going to reveal yet another side of Rick Grimes, one that she had only seen glimpses of outside of the bedroom. She shivered with anticipation. The truth was she had been distracted in their meeting as well, watching his hubristic command of the room. It was the same cocksure attitude she had seen in him while he handled Joe and his partner that night. Andrea had called Rick arrogant but it wasn't arrogance. He was confident, in control.

Rick's hand wrapped around her stomach, keeping them pressed together as he walked her forward down the hall, nipping and sucking at the back of her neck the whole way. His other hand played with the waistband of her shorts before slipping inside of them just as they crossed the threshold to her bedroom. She slowed at the sensation but he didn't stop walking until her knees hit the bed. The hand that had been holding her up now slipped to her back, gently pushing her forward onto her hands. "You have too many clothes on for this," he ordered, letting his hand slip from between her legs to tap her on the ass.

She stared at him over her shoulder as she slowly slid the shorts over her hips and let them fall to the floor, revealing the matching panties to the bra he had already spied through her damp shirt. Finding an unamused look on his face, she smiled devilishly at him and repeated the action, stripping the last layer off. She resumed the position he had placed her in and held his gaze as he quickly undid the buttons on his uniform shirt, letting it fall behind him. His hands fell to his belt, her eyes following, as he made quick work of the buckle, taking one less step than she had to undress. He leaned over her, and her breath hitched as his hand finally returned to his previous task between her legs. He lingered behind her, brushing her locs off of her shoulder and replacing them with his lips. "You ready?" he whispered into her skin.

She nodded but he didn't move. He tightened his grip on her hip and pressed against her, urging her to say it out loud. "Yes," she cried, barely finishing her word before he pushed in.

 **...**

Rick collapsed forward onto the edge of the bed with a loud groan, taking Michonne with him. His left arm was still wrapped around her waist where he had been holding her, his right, now attempting to keep his full weight from resting on her. He held her close, resting his face between her sweat glistened shoulder blades and waited for their breathing to slow.

Finally regaining the ability to move, he slowly removed himself from her and pressed his lips to the back of her head before rolling onto his back. "Jesus, Michonne," he breathed. "What the hell were we doing before we were doing this?"

She remaining face down on the mattress, still acclimating to their bodies being separate. "Thinking about doing this?" she answered cheekily, her words muffled by the crook of her arm.

"Is that right?" he laughed, turning to look at the back of her head.

"Just me?" she asked, lifting her eyes to meet his. It was true that her feelings for Rick had caught her off guard, but she had always admitted he was attractive. She'd occasionally let her mind wander in this direction.

"I might have let it cross my mind a few times."

"When?" she asked, pushing up on her elbow to smile at him, spurred by his response.

He sighed, squinting up at the ceiling as he recounted the many times they shared as friends. "Thanksgiving, when we were out on Hershel's porch, the party at Morgan's bar, after the ceremony. New Year's, definitely more than once there."

She laughed, "Just a few times, then."

He smiled sheepishly, a complete departure from his demeanor moments ago. "I always stopped myself, though. Didn't think it was appropriate."

"Well, it's appropriate now."

"Good, cause I do it a lot these days," he smirked, reaching over to playfully swat her bare ass.

She laughed again, rolling away from him and pulling up to her knees. She reached across the bed to grab her tank top that one of them had flung there. Pulling it over her head, she stood, bending to grab her panties from the floor.

"Where are you going?" he asked, making no move to get up. "You gonna slip out like you did last week?"

"You were asleep last week," she jabbed. "And we're at my house."

"I would have stayed awake if you were stayin'."

"I don't know, I've yet to see you make it to the end of a movie."

"That's because Carl keeps picking them."

"Maybe movies aren't your thing," she teased, waltzing over to her bureau to find a hair tie. She tipped her head upside down and began gathering her locs into a high ponytail.

"So come over tomorrow night, after work. We'll do something else." He finally sat up, reaching out for her as she strode back over toward the bed. Grabbing her hips with both hands, he pulled her in between his knees. "It's Friday, no excuse not to stay."

"Carl will be home tomorrow night," she said, looking down at him with a serious face.

"Yeah, he will," Rick said, drawing his words slowly. "Carl's a smart kid, Michonne. We've both talked to him about it. He understands what's going on here."

Michonne chuckled, remembering how Carl had already assumed she was staying last time she was there. "I know he does."

"Then why don't you want to stay?" he asked, falling back against the bed and pulling her on top of him. "You let me stay here, so I know it's not me." He held her against him and brushed his lips along her jaw, attempting to coax an honest answer from her with his affections.

She considered the idea, remembering how much she had wanted to settle in beside him on the couch and stay the last time she was there. Sleeping next to him felt so right, as if beside him was the only place she was supposed to be. She knew that feeling of certainty, it was the same one she had when she was on top of the world in her career, right before it all came crashing down. She had acted on her gut feeling then, and she was left feeling completely blindsided when it turned out she was wrong.

"Of course, it's not you. It's not anything," she assured him. She placed her hands on either side of him, pushing up to look him in the eye. "This feels so right, everything about it. But...doesn't that scare you, just a little bit? I know I've been wrong before, even when I was sure."

He frowned a bit, analyzing her explanation. "So, you're scared if you get too comfortable and you're wrong, you'll get hurt."

"Me, you, Carl, all of our friends who are so invested in this for some reason. Once you admit you have something, the world starts trying to take it from you. You know, best laid plans and all that?"

"We're not wrong about this," he insisted. "I'm not."

She sighed. "I just don't know how to trust myself anymore."

"Then trust me," he said, sliding his hand to the back of her neck and gently rubbing her skin with his thumb.

"You can just accept it that easily?" she whispered. "After everything you've been through?"

"I've learned a few things from losing my mind so many times," he said with a small smile. Finding her unmoved by his humor, he pulled her down to his chest again, settling her in the crook of his arm. "I can't say I don't think about it. Betrayal like that? It makes you realize you never really know somebody. I've been through hell, Michonne. In some ways I'm still going through it, but I gotta believe it's my turn to be happy. Don't you think it's yours too?"

She looked up at him, feeling a tear threatening to escape her eye. The truth was, no matter how much she told herself to be cautious or how long it took her to admit it, her heart was already there. All the foresight in the world couldn't help her now because she knew, even if this was another wrong turn, it was worth it.

 **...**

The rain was still beating against the window panes and the sound, combined with the darkness of the room and their physical exertion, was threatening to convince them to fall asleep where they lay.

"I really did get dinner," Michonne finally spoke, reminding herself that she didn't want the night to be over yet.

Rick opened his eyes, startled by the interruption to the rhythmic melody of the storm. "I forgot we haven't eaten yet." He tilted his chin up, looking behind his shoulder at the clock on her nightstand. 9:30pm.

Michonne stood up, placing a hand on his chest when he started to follow. "Stay, I'll bring it in here." She got to her feet, reaching down for his boxers that he had also forgotten about, and tossing them to him. "You want a beer?"

"If you're havin' one," he replied, lifting his hips to slip on his underwear. He pulled himself up so he was sitting at the head of the bed and pulled back the duvet and top sheet so Michonne could settle next to him when she returned.

She slipped back into the room, moments later, carrying a tray with takeout bags, beers and plates and took the spot he had reserved for her. "Sorry I didn't cook. I got out a little late tonight too." She scooted over so their legs were pressed together, warding off the chill that had grabbed her when she had left him.

"Thank you," he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. He unpacked the bag, handing her the sandwich that she pointed at, and unwrapping his own.

"So, listen," she started, after they had opened their beers and settled into their meal. "Deanna and the Sheriff mentioned the possibility of a community task force, to address the increase in drugs? I want to be on it."

"OK," he nodded. "You should."

"Yeah?"

"There's going to be someone from the Mayor's office on it. I can't imagine who else she would pick."

"I figured it would be me or Olivia."

Rick scoffed with a mouthful of sandwich. He finished chewing before continuing. "Olivia and I don't play well together. Monroe knows that."

Michonne frowned, disappointed to think the decision might not be made on her merit but on Rick's refusal to work with Olivia.

"You're Deanna's right hand," Rick pivoted, reading her face. "It's not up to me, but I can't imagine anyone not choosing you for the job."

"Why don't you like her?" she asked. "Olivia. You and Daryl have both made it clear she's not your favorite person."

He set his sandwich down in his lap and took a sip of his beer, almost finishing it, before answering. "Olivia and Lori were good friends. Maybe still are. Anyway, it's not because of that, Sasha and Maggie were friends with her too...it's just that Olivia likes to talk. Might work well for her on the job but I haven't found any use for it."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, taking the final sip and setting his bottle on the nightstand. Michonne handed him her bottle, finding the ale she had picked up for him much too strong for her taste. He thanked her and continued. "When it got around that Lori was pregnant, after...everything...I wasn't even the first to know. Sasha and Abraham found out from Olivia." He watched as Michonne winced at his words. "I told you this town likes to talk and they get a lot of their topics of discussion from her."

"I see," she said quietly. "Makes sense then, why you were glad when she was replaced."

"Well, I was glad she was replaced when I saw who replaced her," he smirked. "She's still very much around."

Michonne nodded, smiling at his compliment but also feeling a surge of disdain for her colleague. She would have to work at not letting this new information affect their professional relationship. She could already see that being a difficult task. She glanced down at the mattress they were sitting on, remembering the afternoon Rick had helped her put this bed together. She remembered the look on his face when he had assumed she knew his whole life story before she even met him. Olivia's part in making him go through that would be hard to forget.

"Well, I was going to say," she began again. "Maybe it's better if Deanna doesn't know about us just yet. I don't want to give her a reason not to assign me."

It was Rick's turn to nod. Though, he didn't particularly care what Deanna knew or didn't know, Michonne was right, their relationship might influence her in this regard.

"It's not the same...as what I was saying before," she assured him. "It's only because of this opportunity."

"I know," he smiled, putting his hand over hers and bringing it to his mouth. "Remember what I said about Olivia then. You don't want Deanna to find out, don't let her hear."

"OK," she agreed. "Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any tea at your house or should I bring some? I have it every morning."

A grin spread slowly across his face. "I'll pick some up."


	21. Chapter 21

"Rick, you really don't have to cook. We can just pick something up." Michonne called out Rick's back door, raising her voice to keep from having to step outside. The downpours from the previous day had dwindled, but a more gentle rain was still falling steadily from the sky. She was grateful that the temperature had swung up from the more recent cold snap or else they would have been ankle deep in rare Georgia snow by now.

"It's fine, Rick responded, shutting the lid to the grill and hurrying back up the steps. "The meat is safe in there."

"And you?" she smiled, handing him a dishtowel that he used to dry his face.

"It'll be worth it," he said with a wink. "What're you guys doing in here?" He came around the corner to the living room where Carl was feverishly tapping on his video game controller and shuffling back and forth in front of the TV.

"I'm beating Carl at this game," Michonne responded, coming to stand next to Rick as he watched. "Take my turn, I'll make the salad."

"You don't trust me with the salad?"

"I just want to help," she smiled sweetly, knowing he was partly right.

Michonne walked back into the kitchen shaking her head as she listened to Carl explain to Rick how to hold the controller. "Don't kill my character, Grimes," she warned over her shoulder.

She opened the fridge, pulling out an armful of vegetables and set them out on the counter, humming a quiet tune as she prepared to wash them. Her peaceful task was suddenly interrupted by the standard ring of a government issued cell phone bellowing from across the room where both of their coats were slung over a chair. She dropped the knife she was holding and started over toward the sound.

"Is that mine or yours?" Rick called from the other room.

She lifted her coat up, realizing the sound wasn't getting any louder, and then reached for Rick's. "Yours," she answered.

She grabbed his cell phone out of the pocket of his coat to bring it to him when she saw Lori's name flash across the front of the screen. She paused for a moment and decided against continuing into the living room, thinking he may not want to answer it in front of Carl.

"Come in here," she said. She heard the virtual gunfire stop as he paused the game and he came to meet her in the middle of the kitchen. She handed him the phone just as the ringing stopped.

He looked down at the screen, swiping the lock button to reveal the name behind the missed call notice. His shoulders slumped just a bit and he tossed the phone onto the table. "Glad I missed it," he said, looking back at her.

"You're not going to call her back?"

The phone beeped twice, indicating a voicemail and he sighed loudly, picking it up and bringing it to his ear after hitting a couple keys. He listened intently for a few seconds then tossed the phone back on the table and reached out, resting a hand on her hip. "She just said she wanted to talk."

"Maybe she wants to tell you she's in town."

"Well, I already know, so no need to speak to her."

"Or maybe it's something important," she offered, covering his hand with hers.

"She'll call back if it is," he said, forcing a smile. "I don't want to do that right now."

She smiled back at him, patting his hand so he would release her back to her task. "OK. Go back to your game. And Rick, I'm not kidding. I've got a high score going on. Don't mess this up."

"Yes Ma'am," he chuckled as he turned again to rejoin Carl.

…

"Aren't you glad you didn't go home?" Rick asked with a satisfied grin. Michonne lay between his legs placing small kisses on his stomach as he twirled one of her locs around his fingers.

"I still can," she teased. "But I'm pretty comfortable." She tipped her head to the side, resting her ear on his warm skin. Her eyes glanced downward and she caught a glimpse of the scar at the top of his thigh, just underneath his boxers. She reached out, brushing her fingers over it.

"It doesn't hurt," he said, when he noticed her cautious touch.

Michonne stayed silent for a minute, running her thumb over the discolored skin. She'd noticed the mark on his chest many times but she hadn't spent any time looking at this one. She was usually preoccupied when she was this close to his lower half.

He squirmed a little under her touch and placed his hand over hers to stop her ministrations. "It doesn't hurt, but it tickles," he laughed.

"Sorry," she apologized, scootching upward so she could rest on his chest. "This case," she said, her mind wandering to his work. "What do you think Merle meant when he said these guys were just ringing the doorbell?"

"I think he's just trying to intimidate us. Trying to get us to back off."

"But, if they are taking over his territory, wouldn't it be better for him if you stopped them? Why would he want you to back off?"

"Even Merle doesn't know why he does the things he does," he sighed. "Besides, he's gonna be locked up for awhile. His business is done either way."

"But he's still Daryl's brother. Maybe he really is trying to warn you." She reached out and grabbed his hand, turning it over to inspect the scar across his palm from Merle's knife.

"And his warning is duly noted, but we're not going to back off. Those guys held a gun on you and Maggie. I'm not going to stand by and watch that kinda thing creep into this town, and neither should Deanna."

"She won't," she insisted, feeling his temperature start to rise.

"Let's talk about somethin' else," he sighed, dropping his chin to the top of her head.

"Ok," she agreed. "Maggie wants everyone to go out for drinks next Friday after work. Do you want to go?

"Alright. It's a date."

"A date spent with all of closest friends," she smirked.

"That bother you?" he asked, worrying that she was still having doubts when it came to embracing their relationship.

"No, Rick," she assured him, threading their fingers together. "It's a date."

…

" _Did you remember our deal about your outfit?"_ Rick typed as he sat in his cruiser, waiting for Daryl to run into the store.

They were finishing their first patrol of the day and headed to the Mayor's office to discuss the official plan, now that they had convinced the Sheriff that this uptick in crime needed to be addressed head on. Shane had managed to track down the kid who had attempted to rob the pharmacy but, as they expected, he seemed intent on going to jail rather than face the danger he would be in if he gave them any information. It had struck Rick how the kid had almost seemed relieved to be behind bars, clearly terrified for his life but unwilling to let them help. They were asking Deanna for a lot, but Jesus was right; this wasn't Merle they were dealing with. The crimes were getting bolder and more frequent and he worried they had already missed their opportunity to get ahead of it.

" _I actually never agreed to that."_ Michonne responded causing Rick to chuckle just as Daryl opened the door.

"What?" his partner asked, noting Rick's expression.

"Nothing. Hey, you coming out Friday night?" he asked as he started the car.

"Ain't this is some role reversal?" Daryl snarked. "Yeah I'm comin'. Guess this means I don't have to drag your ass to this one?"

"I'll be there," he answered, ignoring Daryl's sarcasm.

"Good.," Daryl nodded. "All jokes aside, I'm glad."

Rick nodded as he tossed his cellphone into the console between them and put the car in gear. Just as he pulled out onto the road it began to ring and he glanced quickly down at the screen trying not to take his eyes off the road. "Shit," he muttered as he spotted his ex-wife's name.

Daryl turned his attention to the phone, vibrating loudly in the plastic cup holder, and saw what had caused his partner's reaction. "What the hell is she doing calling?"

"I don't know. This is the second time. She called last week but I didn't answer it."

"She leave a message?"

"Just said to call her."

"And you didn't?"

"No, and I hadn't planned on it. Maggie and Michonne ran into her a couple weeks ago. She said she was in town for awhile, staying with her mother. I figured that was what she wanted to tell me."

Daryl picked up the still ringing phone and handed it to Rick, an expectant look on his face. Rick took the phone, looking one more time at her name flashing across the screen and hit the small button on the side to silence it. He immediately felt relief when the quiet returned to the car. When a few moments had passed and he didn't hear the chime of a voicemail, he loosened his shoulders and dared a glance at his partner.

"I get it," Daryl said. "Just might save yourself another surprise if you let her tell you whatever she needs to say."

Rick didn't respond, instead choosing to focus on the drive. He knew Daryl was right. Michonne had suggested the same when he ignored it the first time, but things were good right now. He wanted to enjoy that feeling for a little while longer before casting a line back into his past and reeling in old problems.

Rick turned the car down the street where the block of city buildings stretched and they pulled into the Sheriff's office, getting out to walk two buildings over to their meeting.

The receptionist showed the two deputies to the large conference room that sat, surrounded by glass walls, like a fishbowl in the center of a room full of desks. The hundred year old building had been completely gutted a few years back and, other than the large black and white photographs of the old interior, had been remodeled with no hint of its heritage. Glass walls, track lighting and high tech laptop stations filled the space, warring with its original exposed brick bones. Rick used to hate the modern vibe, feeling it was out of place in the little town, but today, as he glanced around through the transparent walls, he considered that Michonne probably felt more comfortable in this type of environment. He imagined the type of contemporary, high rise building she worked at in the city, and he found himself feeling glad that the town had polished the space before she arrived.

Just as he was finishing his thought, he spotted Deanna and Michonne heading toward the room. Michonne wasn't kidding about not agreeing to his request he noted, as she sauntered in wearing a tight maroon skirt and black blouse. The black heels she had paired with it were clicking on the tiled floor, drawing his attention down the length of her legs. He paused at the dainty strap, wrapped around her shapely ankle and imagined what those shoes would look like with her legs flung over his shoulders. He forced his eyes to keep going until they settled on the floor, hoping to disguise his stolen glance.

"Deputies," Deanna greeted as they entered the room. Rick and Daryl stood to acknowledge their arrival as the two women each set down a binder and a bottle of water at their chosen seats across the table. Michonne gave them each a professional greeting, careful not to look too long at Rick.

When the they had all claimed their seats, Rick and Daryl's boss arrived at the doorway, carrying nothing but a coffee cup. Sheriff Dion was a tall white haired man who looked as if he was straight out of an old western. The smile that permanently lived beneath his white mustache held occupancy in his eyes as well, and he had a fatherly presence, strict yet supportive, that his men all admired.

Dion spent many years as a deputy before running for his first term as Sheriff, and his experience had garnered him the respect that the typically political position sometimes lacked from those who were actually doing the protecting and serving. Having shared servant turned politician career paths and a common party affiliation, the Sheriff and the Mayor had a reputation for being bureaucratic allies.

"Mornin'," the Sheriff greeted as he set his coffee cup down at the head of the table and settled into his chair.

"Good morning, Sheriff," Deanna replied, then turned her attention back to Rick and Daryl. "Let's get started, shall we?" She opened the black binder in front of her, though didn't bother to look at it as she began. "I've been reviewing the deputies' requests, Sheriff. Extra patrols, funding for investigations and approval to conduct raids. I have to say it seems a little heavy handed. I'd like to take a step back and take another look at our response to the situation."

Daryl and Rick exchanged a heavy glance. They had laid out an action plan at the last meeting and, as far as they were aware, this follow up should have been a rubber stamp session. Now Deanna seemed to be pivoting.

"It seems to me," she continued. "You're talking about launching a large scale investigation on the word of the town's current biggest criminal and an anonymous source. That is a huge reallocation of resources on a hunch. I have to admit, I'm not sold on this lead."

"Deanna," Sheriff Dion interrupted. "We have seen a strong increase in both narcotics cases and armed robberies. You can't deny there is something going on here."

"And your men have managed to handle these incidents swiftly and without issue. You've caught every perpetrator so far."

"We're not interested in filling the jails with drug users and desperate kids, we need to hunt down the dealers," Rick objected. "Go after the source."

"The kind of surveillance you're proposing, Deputy, in a small department like this, it's all overtime pay. You're asking me to fund man hours that rival the narcotic division of a larger city."

"We've got people being held at gunpoint and businesses being robbed and you're talking budgetary concerns?" Rick asked, trying to keep the sneer from his voice, but failing.

Michonne watched him from across the table, feeling his tension build. He was caught off guard and so was she. Based on the last conversation she had with Deanna she had no reason to suspect she wasn't on board.

Deanna smiled at Rick, immune to his tone. "I'm saying you've all been doing a fine job keeping things under control here. I think you've shown you are already equipped to manage the situation."

"We're facing a new threat," Rick argued, his voice turning to a low growl. "We need to be proactive, we can't just wait for it to get worse."

"Rick," Deanna said firmly, leaning forward with her arms on the table and meeting his narrowed gaze. "Considering your involvement in one of these incidents and the...aftermath, you'll have to forgive me if I worry a bit about you asking this office to fund some sort of revenge mission."

Rick winced at her words, turning his cheek as if she'd slapped him. His shoulders fell back against his chair, his face both angry and disbelieving.

Michonne straightened in her seat, her eyes trained on Rick. She could see him battling with his temper as he kept his focus on the empty corner of the room and said nothing.

"With all due respect, Deanna," she protested. "Deputy Grimes diffused a dangerous situation. He was the one assaulted."

"Yeah, with all due respect," Daryl sneered.

Deanna opened a file folder, flipping through it until she settled on a photograph. "And taking a look at the suspect's mug shot," she replied. "It's not a far leap to say that there was some self indulgence at play in his response." She held up a picture of the fat man who had held his gun to Michonne's head and who Rick had bloodied with his fist. She slid it across the table at Rick to remind him of what he had done to the man.

They sat silently challenging one another for a moment before Deanna continued, getting back to her original script. "It is this office's concern that we not look at this from a strictly crime and punishment point of view. The task force won't require additional funding. Let's see what the group can come up with. You'll analyze the trends, work with citizen groups to get more information and come up with a multi-tiered approach on how we can make this environment less susceptible to the lure of these outside influences. We will talk treatment and prevention in addition to law enforcement. It's the same result, just a different way of going about it."

Daryl snorted, making no attempt at hiding his displeasure.

"What, Deputy Dixon? Does that sound like a pie in the sky idea to you?"

"You want us all to hold hands and make a circle around these kids? Hug 'em and tell 'em it will be ok when Johnny Drug Dealer comes looking to get paid."

"Look," Dion interrupted, shooting Daryl and unimpressed glance. "We all agree on the need for a community task force, Mayor. My men are on board with advising that group in addition to the action plan they've laid out to go after the source. We need results, not just reports"

"I'm sorry men, this is all I can give you right now. We just don't have the funds to commit to what you're proposing. I'm still on board with including the D.A.'s office and utilizing plea deals on the lower level offenses to get more information, but until we get more information, this is the plan. Work with the task force once we set it up, and we will reconvene again when you can make further recommendations." Deanna closed her binder and looked toward Michonne to indicate the meeting was over. "I'll name the members from my department by the end of the week."

Michonne picked up her things, letting her eyes meet Rick's quickly before following Deanna out of the room where the three men remained.

"This is bull shit," Daryl blurted as soon as they were alone.

"Don't let this take you off track," Sheriff Dion said. "You two are onto something. Keep working your leads and bring me whatever you find. This isn't over."

"We all know what's coming," Rick replied. "She may not see it now, but when it gets here, she'll know."

The Sheriff nodded, picking up his coffee cup and gesturing to his two men to lead the way as they headed out.

…

" _Are you at the station? We should talk."_

Rick's phone buzzed loudly on his desk. He scooped it up, allowing his first smile since they left Deanna's office, when he saw Michonne's name on the message.

He glanced at the time, seeing that she was probably just leaving for the day. He still had another four hours of patrol starting soon.

" _I've got thirty minutes. I'll meet you at your car."_

He threw his phone in his coat pocket and called over his computer to Shane. "Tell Daryl I'll be back before we have to head out."

"Where are you going?" Shane smirked. Rick didn't usually take advantage of his designated breaks during his shift, choosing instead to eat at his desk or on the road. "Meetin' your girl for a quicky?"

Rick glared at him. After the day he had he was not in the mood for Shane's crass conversation. "Just tell him."

He zipped up his coat and pushed through the glass doors of the station, out into the cold, dark evening. When he got to the municipal parking lot behind the courthouse he spotted Michonne leaning up against the passenger door to her car, staring down at her phone.

"Michonne," he called out, still a few yards away.

Her head snapped up, startled by his gruff tone.

"You should be inside your car, doors locked." His eyes scanned the parking lot, noting a few poorly lit corners and large vehicles that anyone could be hidden behind. He picked up his pace, closing the distance between them and came to a stop in front of her placing his hands on his hips.

Sensing his agitation and knowing that he was probably right, she quickly put her phone in her purse and placed her palms on his chest. "I just got here," she said, assuring him with her eyes.

He settled a bit, leaning down to kiss her quickly on the lips. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door, and he waited until she walked around the car before meeting her inside the vehicle.

"So, that meeting didn't go how you expected today," she ventured, once they were settled and she had turned on the heat. She knew he had probably been fuming about it for hours and she couldn't let herself go home without seeing him.

"No. It did not."

"I had no idea that's how she felt. I would have given you the heads up."

"I know," he said, blowing a long breath out and leaning back on the headrest. "It's not on you. But, she's wrong. You know that, right?"

"I advised her as much after the meeting. But she's made up her mind."

"I should have handed off this case. It's me she doesn't trust." His eyes shut and he brought his hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No," she said firmly. "What she accused you of? She was out of line."

"She was right about what I did to that guy," he admitted, chancing a glance at her before looking down at his hands. "But she's wrong about where I'm coming from on this."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each staring forward, considering the other's words.

"Did she put you on the task force?" he asked, finally.

"She asked me to serve on it, yes."

"Good. When do we start? I should have plenty of time while we sit around and wait for the shit to hit the fan."

"Rick, this is just where we start. You and Daryl are still advising the group on the situation and then we convince her what needs to be done. Even if you can't get through to her, I'm still with you and I'll make sure whoever else sits on this thing knows it."

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the windshield. "We need those extra patrols, Michonne. Two guys can't cover the whole town. They held you and Maggie up in the middle of Main Street while the cops on shift were pulling over a drunk driver out on the back roads. If I wasn't there…" He paused, not wanting to consider the alternative. "We need to be out there, figuring out who these guys are and taking them down."

Michonne nodded. She knew he was right; that he could see something her boss couldn't, but she also knew he was in no position to convince her. Deanna didn't trust him right now. He had to play her way for now.

"Something's going to happen, Rick. Something she won't be able to ignore. Just don't make something happen."

Rick rubbed his hand over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. "The question is who it's gonna happen to and how bad it's gonna be before she sees we're not prepared."

She leaned back in her seat, resting her hand on his leg. "I know."


	22. Chapter 22

"Can I buy you a drink, Miss?" Rick asked, pressing his body into Michonne from behind and brushing her ear with his lips as he spoke.

She was leaning over the bar, standing on her tiptoes to speak to Carol as Morgan mixed her drink. She froze, startled at first, but Carol's beaming smile and that thick drawl immediately gave him away. She turned around with a smile and he placed a quick kiss to her lips, the chasteness of it belied by the way his eyes wandered up and down her front.

"I already ordered one, Deputy," she purred, running a hand up the front of his dark plaid button down. "But I'll let you get the next one."

Rick pulled his gaze back up and looked over her shoulder to Morgan. "The usual," he said, gesturing between himself and Daryl, who was standing behind them already in conversation with Shane. "And put hers on my tab."

"You got it," Morgan answered, exchanging a smile with Carol. He pushed Michonne's cocktail forward and got to work on two whiskey shots.

"You're such a gentleman, Grimes," Michonne smiled, still trapped against the bar by his stance.

"For now."

"You are in a very good mood," she noted, taking in his grin that hadn't wavered since he walked in.

"Work's done, I'm having a drink with friends and you're coming home with me tonight. What's not to be happy about?"

She returned his smile and took a sip of her drink, pulling away just slightly to find the stool between her and the bar. She hoped up onto it as Morgan pushed Rick and Daryl's drinks over to him.

"Thank you," he said, handing over his card to his friend. He turned to rest his elbow on the bar beside where she now sat.

"'Sup Michonne?" Daryl greeted, slipping by to grab his drink from the bar. He slapped Rick on the shoulder in thanks and reached out to give Michonne a low five which he used to pull her into a hug. "Ya'll coming?" He nodded his chin over his shoulder to a large table where Shane, Glenn and Maggie sat, waiting for the others to arrive.

"In a minute," Rick answered, wanting to catch up with Michonne privately before joining the group. It had again been a few days since they had seen each other and he felt the need to keep her to himself for a few more minutes. At least until Andrea arrived and began her mission to turn happy hour into a full fledged party.

Daryl nodded, leaving them and Michonne turned her knees so she was facing Rick, leaving as little room between them as was appropriate for their surroundings.

"How was your day?" he asked, leaning in toward her and absentmindedly stroking her arm with the hand he had been resting on the bar. They had decided to meet at Morgan's since they were both coming from work, but he was now wishing they had just met at his house first so they could have gotten a few things out of the way, even if it made them late.

She was about to answer him when they heard a cheerful voice behind them. "I haven't seen you two in here in quite awhile," Carol said from behind the bar, interrupting their staring. "You look well, Rick." The woman's smirk told him she was congratulating herself on being right in her insinuation about him and Michonne the last time she saw them.

"I am well, Carol," he answered, conceding her win with a shy smile. "And you?"

"Just fine." She dropped her elbows to the bar, indicating her intention to continue the conversation.

Rick switched his drink into the other hand, letting go of Michonne's arm. His left hand dropped more discreetly to her thigh as he smiled at his nosy friend. "Glad to see you haven't had any trouble around here since that weekend."

Carol shook her head, about to pry him for information on the men who had held them up outside of their bar, when she stopped short, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open just enough for Rick to notice. He turned over his shoulder toward the main entrance just in time to see Lori walk through the door, followed by Olivia, and a woman he vaguely recognized as someone Lori used to know.

She was laughing and looking far more comfortable than Rick would have liked, given the fact that she was waltzing directly into his good mood, ready to destroy it. He felt his face start to burn as he set his drink down, his jaw clenched.

Michonne's eyes followed Rick and Carol's and the straw that she was sipping from dropped from her mouth as she took in his ex-wife about to walk right over to them. She turned back to face Rick when she felt his fingers digging into her jeans where his hand was previously resting comfortably. She reached for his arm, having no idea what to say but wanting to find a way to ground him.

Lori noticed Rick immediately and stopped in her tracks, her two companions continuing their conversation around her. She looked like she was debating turning around and bolting for the door but she decided to continue walking. Her hands went to the front of her floral, country style dress, smoothing the fabric as she strode over to him with a nervous smile. "Rick," she said, her voice filled with nerves. "I certainly wasn't expecting to see you here."

"That makes two of us," he pointed out..

Lori's eyes dropped to his hand resting on Michonne's thigh and she looked up at her with a flash of recognition. "Um...I called you," she stumbled, her gaze flitting back and forth between the couple. "More than once."

"I know."

"I wanted to tell you I was going to be in town, but I get the feeling you already knew," she said, still putting the pieces together. "I also wanted to see if we could talk."

"Well, we're both here now," he said, glaring at her. "Talk."

It was Michonne's turn to look back and forth between the two, judging Rick's flippant request to be disingenuous. She looked around the room at the groups of people enjoying the night out and she knew he didn't really want to have a conversation here. "Rick," she said, quietly, as she placed her hand over his. "Why don't you step outside?"

The narrow gaze he was holding softened as it fell back on Michonne. He was loath to walk away from her but she was right, this wasn't the place. He searched her face, drawing whatever strength he could before nodding. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand back and silently gestured to the door, waiting for Lori to lead.

"I'll wait right here," Michonne said as he turned to go.

As soon as the two disappeared from view Maggie appeared at Michonne's side. "You have got to be kidding me," Maggie hissed. "What did she say? Glenn wouldn't let me come over here."

Michonne glanced back at the table to see the three men still seated. Daryl was peering out the window behind them, attempting to spot his partner while Shane and Glenn looked on.

"She wanted to talk to him. Didn't say what it was about."

"What could she possibly want?" she demanded, before her scowl softened and she began to chew on her lip nervously. She sighed, looking over her shoulder at the door. "You should have gone with him."

"It's not my place, Maggie. He'll be ok," Michonne assured her.

…

"What do you want Lori?" Rick asked when they had turned the corner and landed a few feet from the front door. He avoided her eyes as she spoke, choosing instead to focus on a point in the distance, over her shoulder.

She paused for a moment, looking as if she was trying to remember. "Are you two together?" she blurted, nodding her chin toward the door they had just come through. Her arms were wrapped around herself, trying to ward off the cold air.

"We are. Is that what you wanted?"

"No, Rick," she objected. "Look, I'm glad for you. I am. I don't wish you any ill will."

"That's kind of you, considering." He wasn't even trying to be civil. All he could think about was finishing whatever this was so he could go back to Michonne and attempt to regain the good night he was about to have.

Lori bristled at his tone. After their phone conversation on New Year's she had given up the hope of them exchanging any pleasantries, but she continued to be taken back by his seething contempt. Unrestrained anger wasn't something she was used to from him. She was finally seeing for herself what she had done to him; he was cold, unsteady and it scared her.

"Rick," she started, cautiously searching for the right words. "We need to talk about what's been going on with you. I'm worried about you. I tried to tell you when we last spoke but you wouldn't hear me and now that I'm back...I've been hearing things."

Rick narrowed his eyes, finally allowing them to fall on Lori as he fought back the fire that was rising in his chest. He couldn't believe after everything she'd done, she walks back into town and it's him they were discussing. He remained silent, afraid of how his words would taste if he allowed them to escape.

She sighed audibly, accepting that he was retreating into silence. She'd been on the other end of his silence many times. She knew he wasn't going to give her anything so she continued. "Rick, I know you haven't been dealing with this well. I've heard the stories. You've put yourself in danger. You've been acting...irrationally."

Rick took a step back, tipping his head to the side as he glared at her. "I don't know what Olivia has been telling you…"

"It's not Olivia."

"Really?" he laughed, knowing first hand how these stories kept their traction.

"It's not just Olivia," she amended. "I can't even go downtown without someone telling me a story about something crazy you've done."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, shuffling his feet as he thought. Things had been so good. It had been months since he had lost control of himself. He was pulling himself back, he was handling things, but he should have known no one would be willing to forget. He debated just turning around and leaving. Going back in to find Michonne. He needed to get back to the place he was moments ago, before his past came walking through the door and dragged him out here to remind him that his sins had not been absolved.

He didn't go though and Lori continued. "I know that things haven't been easy and I know...Rick, I know it's my fault, but...I think...given the situation..." She stuttered over her words, sounding as if she was convincing herself to say them. "Maybe Carl should come stay with me for awhile."

Her words jabbed at his gut and he felt the air pulling out of his lungs. "No," he hissed. In the back of his mind he'd been fearing this since Carl had spent Christmas with her and now it had come.

"Rick, you obviously have some stuff to work through," she said, putting more strength behind her words. She took a step back from him and he saw it, the fear in her eyes. He was just getting used to not seeing the fear.

"I've worked through it, Lori," he said, sounding more desperate than he had intended to. "I'm working...I'm working through it."

She took a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing. "Phillip and I are getting married," she declared, straightening her shoulders. "We want Carl to be part of our family."

Rick's heart started to pound in his chest and cold fear coursed through his veins. He wondered how he ended up here, blindsided again. "You didn't want that before," he said, his eyes falling to the ground as he focused on keeping his voice steady. "You just left."

She hesitated for a moment, glancing around her as if searching for an invisible ally. "I couldn't….I couldn't take him from you after all I had put you through."

"And you couldn't call him, or see him, Lori?"

"I was...the pregnancy was hard and then I had a newborn." Her voice came out just above a whisper as she knew what she was admitting. She hadn't handled the change well either, despite it being her doing. "I was adjusting too."

"Adjusting to life with your new family."

She dropped her head, contrition finally making it's way to her face. She could see his heart breaking in front of her and she hated herself for it but she was resigned. "I know my mistakes. I've wallowed in them, hated myself for them. I know I was a shitty wife, and I'm not winning any mother of the year awards, but I shouldn't have to pay for them forever. I'm trying to do right by him now."

"By taking him from me?" He scoffed out loud, the noise equal parts pain and disbelief.

"By offering him stability," she cried. "He deserves that. Christ, Rick, his 2nd grade teacher told me she saw you beating the hell out of Merle at the bank!" Her hands went up to her forehead and she took a breath, steadying her voice. "I'm just trying to give him a little normalcy after everything he's been through. It doesn't seem like that's something you can give him right now."

The past few months started flooding back to him, all the mistakes he had made, all the times he'd lost control. Despite the fact that he was regaining his sanity, finally getting a grip on his life, on his future, here she was, her of all people, demanding penance.

"You don't have any right," he snarled, shaking his head. "You signed the custody agreement."

"I'm asking you to allow it," she said, bringing her voice back down. "But if you won't, then I can petition the court to modify the agreement due to a change in circumstances; mine and yours."

Rick leaned back against the wall, his fortitude waning. He ran a hand over his face, letting it rest on his mouth while he considered her words. He knew he was out of strength, out of calm. He wanted to turn and leave but his feet wouldn't move.

"I really didn't want to have this conversation this way, Rick," she whispered. "Phillip's on his way, we'll leave as soon as he gets here." She looked him up and down, remembering all the times she had wished he would have it out with her, scream at her, instead of punishing her with silence. Now, she was thankful for his lack of response. She couldn't stand to hear the hurt she was inflicting on him again.

She left him where he stood, walking back to the bar alone. As she went to open the door she was met by Shane and Daryl, standing vigil, waiting for Rick to return. She avoided the gaze of her ex-husband's ever loyal friends, knowing they were glaring at her, but she dared one more look at Michonne before she made her way back to her friends. She hadn't heard about everything Rick has been up to, she thought.

…

"You ok, man?" Shane asked as he and Daryl approached Rick, still leaning against the brick wall.

"Where's Michonne?" he asked, not knowing how to answer the question. "I need to take off."

"We figured," Daryl answered. "She's getting your card from Morgan, she'll be right out."

Rick nodded, glancing past them toward the door.

"What the hell'd she want?" Shane asked, as he settled against the wall next to Rick and watched Daryl light a cigarette.

Before Rick could answer he spotted a red Toyota pull up to the curb across the street. A swift jab of recognition hit his gut, as he stood from the wall and waited for Philip Blake to open the door. He watched as the man appeared, swinging his key ring around his index finger as he crossed to where they were.

Phillip stopped short as he stepped up onto the sidewalk and noticed his three former comrades staring at him. He cleared his throat then pasted on a smug smile, settling his hands on his hips. "Gentlemen."

"Keep walking, Blake" Shane spit out, as he stood from the wall and settled beside Rick.

"Now, is that any way to treat your old partner?" he asked with a small laugh. "Grimes, I certainly didn't expect to run into you here. I guess this is a little uncomfortable for the both of us."

Rick's eyes narrowed and his hands balled into fists as he stared at Philip without a response.

"You must have already run into Lori," he said, blowing out an exaggerated breath. "She's been trying to call. We wanted to avoid this type of situation, for everyone involved." He settled back on his heels and tipped his head to meet Rick's stare. "I assume she told you we're getting married."

Daryl's head snapped around to look at Rick as he heard the information.

"Couldn't be happier for you," Rick ground out. "But you're not taking my son."

"Rick," Philip said, shaking his head. "You're being dramatic. No one wants to take Carl. It's just that we think it might be...safer if he stays with his mother for awhile while you get ahold of things. We can provide a more stable family right now."

"Family?" Rick growled. "You already have my wife. Now what? You want my son, _my son_ to call you 'Daddy'?" Rick took a step toward him as Daryl and Shane watched carefully.

"See, now this is exactly the type of behavior people are talking about," Philip lectured, putting his palms up in surrender. "Frankly, I didn't believe it when I first heard it Rick, but clearly this anger is something that needs to be addressed if it's going to be safe for Carl to be with you. "

Rick stepped forward again, grabbing Philip by the shirt and pulling him to his face. "You say that to me again and I'll break your jaw. I'm not laid up on the couch this time, Philip, and I owe you."

"Rick," Daryl yelled, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. "The Sheriff ain't gonna keep looking the other way, man."

Just as Rick let go of Philip's shirt he heard Michonne's voice behind him and he swung his head around to see her face. "What are you doing, Rick?" she asked calmly, her eyes imploring him to come back down.

"Listen to your friends, Rick. You're not helping your cause."

Rick strained against Daryl's hold again before he felt Shane's hand on his chest. "He's right, brother," Shane warned. "He's not worth another mark on your record."

"That's right, you still have your career to think about," Phillip said.

Shane shook his head, unable to hold in his own anger for his former friend. "The thing is, Phillip," Shane replied. "My record is squeaky clean." Shane grabbed Philip's shoulder with one hand, plunging his other fist into the man's gut, causing him to lurch forward.

Michonne's hands went to her mouth as she watched Philip cough and spit, a hand wrapped around his middle. He finally pulled himself back up, his hair falling in his face and rage in his eyes. He quickly settled his expression and let out a cocky laugh as he looked at the group's wide eyes. He pushed past the four of them, knocking into Shane with his shoulder as he passed, glaring at Rick.

When he was gone, Rick pulled out of Daryl's grasp and took off down the street, Michonne hurrying after him. She looked back over her shoulder at his friends, assuring them with a nod.

"Rick," she called, catching up to him and grabbing his forearm. He kept walking, letting her hand slide down his arm until their fingers were joined. They walked another block until they came upon his car and he reached his free hand into his pocket, handing over his keys and control as he silently took the passenger side.

…

"Rick," Michonne whispered. She had opened her eyes in the pitch dark of his room to find him sitting up against the headboard. "I thought you were going to get some sleep."

"I can't," he sighed, sliding back down so he was facing her.

She reached a hand up to his hair, smoothing it with her fingers. "Do you want to talk about it now?"

"What is there to talk about? She's going to take Carl."

"You can fight her on this," she insisted. "She's hardly in any position…"

"You know I can't," he interrupted. "If I make her take this to court, her lawyers will tear me apart. It's all public record; every Goddamn time I screwed up. The best thing I can do is give her what she wants and hope she'll keep it at that."

"She can't possibly believe this is the right thing to do."

"I've made some bad choices, Michonne. She's right, I didn't handle it well. I brought this on myself."

"No one is immune to bad choices, Rick. It's what you do after that counts. You've come back from it. You shouldn't have to pay for your mistakes forever."

He let out a sad chuckle, bringing his hand to his forehead. "That's what she said about hers."

"Yeah, well I have less sympathy for her," she argued, slipping her arm around his waist and settling her face in the crook of his neck.

He exhaled a long breath and closed his eyes. "What do I do, Michonne?"

"I don't know."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N Wow, this chapter wasn't easy. I re-wrote it like 10 times. Sorry for the delay. I have the next chapter halfway done already so the next update should be quicker. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

xxxxx

Rick lay on his bed, partially dressed for work, watching as Michonne stepped out of the shower in the master bath and wrapped herself in the plush, grey towel that he had set out for her. Her overnight bag was in the corner, carelessly spilling its contents onto the floor of his bathroom where she had rummaged through it the morning before in a hurry to dress for work. She bent down to paw through it again, this time looking for a pair of jeans suitable for the leisurely Saturday of running errands that she had planned. She'd been at Rick's house seven nights now, every night that Carl had been gone.

February had come and so had Carl's school vacation. Lori had suggested it was a good opportunity to make the transition. When school started again, she would be making the forty-five minute trip to bring him there and they agreed it would be better if he could settle in and get his bearings before the inevitable chaos of a pre-teen's schedule would strain the already tentative situation. The plan made sense, except it didn't. Carl didn't want to go. He had been furious when Rick broke the news to him weeks ago, after his confrontation with Lori at Morgan's bar, and he had been silently defiant on the trip there. He'd left Rick with barely a goodbye.

Rick struggled to make his son understand the situation. To Carl, lawyers and custody agreements meant nothing. In his eyes his father was the one who had a change of heart and the pain of the accusation rivaled any Rick had felt since Lori left.

Michonne made her way into the bedroom, holding a stack of clothes in her hands. She smiled at him questioningly when she noticed his state of half dress. "You missed some buttons," she kidded, gesturing to his uniform shirt that was still hanging open.

"I was just talking to Carl while you were showering," he replied, holding his cellphone up.

"You were?" She brightened and sat down beside him eagerly waiting to hear about their conversation. "How is he? What did he say?"

Rick's eyes swept her face, taking in her hopeful smile. He knew how much she missed Carl too. She had been uncharacteristically somber since he left. The light that usually glowed from her face was clouded by weary eyes and half smiles. Michonne's affection for his son had always stirred something in him, but seeing how his absence affected her had him overwhelmed with both adoration and apology.

He certainly wasn't good company this past week. Some nights she had come there after work to find him sitting alone in his darkened living room, glass of whiskey in hand. She sat down next to him, sharing his drink and his silence. She let him return to her time and time again with nothing but need and she just kept refilling him. He didn't know what he did to deserve her but he was sure it wasn't enough.

Rick was always better at showing his appreciation rather than speaking it and she seemed to understand that too. When they grew tired of rehashing their days and pretending not to notice the lack of company, they'd go to bed and he'd show her his gratitude there, exalting her body and burying himself inside her until she shuddered around him. Seeing her sitting there in that towel made him want to show her again.

"Rick?"she said, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Sorry," he answered. "We talked about tomorrow. Lori's dropping him off in the morning. I'll have him for the afternoon."

"Good. I'm sure he's looking forward to it," she said, laying back on the mattress beside him. "How is he settling in?"

"He said he's enjoying his sister," Rick replied with a resigned nod. "But he said he's done playing house with her and Philip. He asked when he could come home."

If her heart wasn't breaking, Michonne would have laughed at Carl's description of his stay there. The boy certainly didn't mince words. Unfortunately, his shrewd tongue had been aimed at his father lately. Rick for the most part took his anger as another form of penance.

"Tomorrow will be good for you both," she said, resting her hand on his leg.

He nodded, taking a few silent moments to finish his thoughts before turning her way. "What are you going to do today?" he asked, bending an elbow to prop his head up.

She reached out to run her hand across the soft cotton of his undershirt as she answered, letting the pads of her fingers trace his firm pectorals. "I've got to go into town and pick up some food. I haven't seen my refrigerator in a week, but I'm pretty sure there's nothing in there, and I promised I'd bring something fun to drink at Andrea's tonight."

"It'll be strange not having you here tonight. Daryl's good company and all, but he's not as nice to look at."

Michonne laughed quietly, suddenly feeling like she missed him, even though she could feel him beneath her hands. His eyes were cast beyond her as he spoke and his flirting was missing its usual easiness, as if he was reminding himself to say things like that.

"Have your guy time," she said. "I'll see you after your day with Carl."

"You could come with us," he offered hopefully. "We're having lunch with my mom."

"No, you need your time with him," she reasoned. She missed the boy terribly but she didn't want to give either of them a reason not to talk to each other. "How's your mom been doing?" she asked.

"Driving me crazy mostly. She's been calling me every day. I don't think she knows what to do with herself without Carl around and I haven't had a chance to make it over there this week."

Michonne frowned, a pang of sadness hitting her chest for his mother. Rebeccah was used to having Carl almost half the week. She must have been feeling his absence as well.

"I could stop by and visit her," she offered, tentatively. " I'm going to be over that way today...I mean...if you don't think that would be weird."

She watched as the first real smile he had allowed in days, formed on his face. He reached a hand up to cup her cheek, touched by her gesture and enamoured with the slight nervousness in her voice, as if she had to worry about being too forward with him. He wasn't sure how she had missed that any steps she took found him ready and waiting, but he knew he needed to remedy that.

"I think she would love that. Me too. More than you know." He leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. "But I should warn you," he joked. "It's a slippery slope." He raised his eyebrows, feigning concern for her. "You give her an afternoon and she's gonna start calling you to go shopping with her, make you casseroles, talk your ear off on the phone. Ask Maggie. She's not shy about making up for only having sons."

Michonne laughed at him, nudging his knee beside her. "I can handle it. I like your mother. She reminds me a lot of my own." She paused, silently reminiscing and he suddenly felt the need to hold her, so he did, pulling closer and snaking an arm around her waist. "It's weird not having any family around here after living so close my whole life."

"Well, if you want to make an old woman's day, that'll do it," he said, nuzzling his face into her still damp neck.

"Text me her phone number and I'll give her a call." She lay there, toying with his hair until she felt his fingers start to slip inside the soft, terry cloth barrier between them. "You need to get going or you're going to be late," she said as convincingly as she could.

"Alright," he agreed after indulging in a few nips at her skin. He stood up, working the buttons on his shirt in the opposite direction of where he wished they were going, then shoved his shirt tails into his already buttoned waistband. Finally he strode across the room to his closet and Michonne watched, lazily, as he retrieved his utility belt from the top shelf and wrapped it around his hips. One more reach and he pulled down his sidearm, giving it a quick inspection before securing it in his holster.

"You gettin' dressed this morning?" he asked, tipping his chin toward her still towel clad form.

"Just enjoying the view," she simpered, letting her eyes wander him.

"I'll call you later," he promised, mirroring her roaming gaze. He was definitely going to miss her tonight. "Have fun tonight." He leaned over her, kissing her goodbye and letting his hand trail across her bare legs as he backed away.

"You too."

…

"Michonne, come in! I'm so thrilled you're here." Rebeccah ushered her in through the front door, barely hiding her excitement over the visit. She reached for the bag in Michonne's hands so she could free herself from her winter gear.

"I brought some cookies from the bakery downtown," she offered, while unwrapping her scarf and hanging it on the hook Rebeccah gestured to.

The older woman peeked inside the bag with a bright smile. "That was very sweet. Thank you, honey."

The endearment warmed Michonne and she realized she found Rick's mother's presence instantly comforting. She wanted to check in on her, to help out where she could, but she had to admit her motives were slightly selfish. She hadn't realized how much she missed her family until Rick had so freely shared his, first Carl and then his mother. She knew this visit was going to do her soul some good as well.

Rebeccah led the way through the hall to the kitchen, offering Michonne a seat at the small, two person table nestled in the corner of the room. She went about opening cupboards and drawers preparing the baked goods to be served appropriately. Once she had placed the treat on a pretty plate at the center of the table and fixed two cups of tea, she joined her guest.

"I was so happy to hear from you this morning. It was a really nice surprise." Rebeccah held her mug below her chin with both hands, gently blowing on the steaming liquid through a beaming smile.

"Rick mentioned he hasn't been able to come by this week," Michonne offered, as she tested the tea. "It must be kind of quiet around here now. I thought you could use the company."

Rebeccah's eyes dimmed just a bit as she silently agreed. She finally took a sip before responding. "It has been a bit of a transition, being alone here again. I know Rick has been busy, but I think maybe he also doesn't want to talk about this, that's why he hasn't been by." She allowed a small, knowing smile to form on her face. "How is he?"

Michonne forced her own lips to join in the expression of comfort, wanting to relieve her as much as she could. "He's doing alright."

Rebeccah nodded, understanding that meant her son was at least holding things together. She was sure she'd be able to see it in her eyes if he was slipping. She also got the feeling that Michonne was the reason he wasn't this time.

"You know, Michonne," she started. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about him. He lost himself for quite awhile and the thought of him going there again…" she trailed off, her gaze flicking across the room before settling warmly on the woman before her. "You seem to get through to him like no one else can. I saw it the first time I saw you two together, the effect you had on him. I prayed he would see it too and I'm so glad he did. You gave me my son back."

Michonne felt her eyes begin to well at Rebeccah's earnest declaration. It never ceased to amaze her the way both Rick and Carl said exactly what they felt and it seemed that wearing your heart on your sleeve was a Grimes family trait. She reached across the table and covered Rebeccah's hand with her own, giving her an appreciative smile.

The truth was her son had brought her back from something too. When she arrived here she had lost her faith in good people. Rick was like an oasis in the desert of hypocrisy and ill intentions, and when she'd found out he was real, she couldn't help herself from returning over and over again to experience him. He was things she didn't think existed anymore, or if they did, she doubted her ability to recognize them. But she recognized him. He was good, and he was loyal, and he was honest. Honest in his pain, honest in flaws and honest in what he needed from her. It didn't even seem to scare him, to need her that way. He was a rare thing in this world and she wasn't about to let him doubt that.

"He's helped me too," she returned, her words feeling meager in their conveyance.

Rebeccah smiled, breaking off a small piece of cookie and popping it in her mouth. She didn't doubt it. She'd caught the way Michonne looked at Rick too, as if she'd found something novel in him and was captivated by it. It filled her heart to see the way they drew from each other.

"Rick and Lori were never right for each other," she confessed, as if she was admitting a secret to herself. "I resent her for what she did to him, the way she was so careless and selfish." Rebeccah's words were weighted with distaste but her eyes held a glimmer of sympathy. She sighed, taking a moment to consider the woman who used to be her daughter-in-law. She had done a lot of that over the past year, trying her hardest to make sense of how their family had broken. "There are ways to go about these things and what she did isn't one of them...but she isn't a horrible person. She was just unhappy, and didn't know how to get herself out of the situation. Even now, I'm sure she thinks she is doing what is right for her son, but she's wrong. Again."

Michonne nodded, sipping her tea in lieu of a response since she didn't have one as merciful as Rebeccah's. She would like to understand; to give another woman the benefit of the doubt, but seeing the effect her decision had on Rick and Carl, she wasn't able to be gracious.

"Rick has a very strong moral code," Rebeccah continued. "He didn't believe betrayal like that existed before this. Of course, he's a cop, he knows there are bad people out there," she explained with a wave of her hand. "But Lori showed him that it wasn't black and white. Even the people you love and trust can be selfish, cruel. That's why he doesn't know how to deal with her. Hating someone you used to love is confusing." Rebeccah looked away again, as if recounting her son's pain was taking its toll. "She blurred all of his lines," she sighed.

Michonne agreed. She'd gathered this about Rick almost immediately. She had seen that they were both trying to live in a world where the rules kept changing and they had been drawn to each other by that understanding.

"He thinks he deserves this for the way he handled his grief," she shared, trying to keep the pain she felt for him out of her voice.

Rebeccah shook her head, having already known as much. "He's always been one to deal himself the worst sentences. He'll accept any fate if he think he deserves it."

"He thinks he'll lose Carl altogether if it goes to court. He could if the judge thinks he's made too many mistakes."

"Or he could lose him in a different way; by letting him settle in there, thinking his father is fine with it."

Michonne sipped at her tea, considering the older woman's insight. Rick was anything but fine with it, he just couldn't see a way around it.

 **...**

"Hey," Daryl huffed out, picking up his pace to meet up with Rick on the walkway into the station.

Rick turned over his shoulder, pausing when Daryl tipped his chin to the side indicating for him to take a beat before they continued inside. "What's up?" he asked.

They both stepped to the side, allowing a man in a suit to pass them before Daryl answered. "I got a tip. A house. Jesus said we need to check it out."

"A house?"

"Yeah. Kid he works with told him a story about his step-dad carting him and his kid brother around town running errands and shit. Said they ended up sitting in the back seat of the douche bag's car waiting for almost an hour while the guy was holed up in this house. Came out high as shit. Kid had to drive 'em home, don't even have a license yet."

"You wanna catch up with this guy?"

"No, he wouldn't give me a name. Told ya, he's not interested in giving us anything that can get back to these kids. But he did get the street name where this house was. He checked it out himself, noticed something didn't look right at one of the places."

Rick leaned back on his heels, running his thumb along his forehead while he considered the information. "You think they're running shit out of this place? Could be just another low level, scum bag buddy lives there and he wanted some company while he got high."

"Only one way to find out," Daryl offered.

"We don't have the approval for surveillance shifts."

"That just means we ain't getting paid for it." Rick squinted at him, looking unsure so he continued. "Look man, I know you gotta stay on the straight and narrow right now. We ain't gonna do nothin' but park on a public road for a bit. We were gonna watch the Hawks game tonight anyway, we'll listen to it instead and see what we see."

Rick nodded. With Michonne at Andrea's for the night and Carl gone, he had no reason not to sit in a car with Daryl and stare out the windshield for a few hours. "Alright. I'll pick you up. I'm not sitting in your filthy vehicle all night."

It was Daryl's turn to nod with a slight smirk. He extended an arm in front of him to allow Rick to lead the way and they continued in to start their shift.

 **...**

Andrea opened the door to her condo holding a glass of wine in one hand and a tray of fancy looking appetizers in the other. "Come on in ladies!" she exclaimed as she ushered Michonne and Sasha through the door.

"Don't mind if I do," Sasha said, grabbing a meat and cheese crostini from the tray as she passed.

"I brought the cocktail ingredients." Michonne held up the bag she was carrying. "Where should I set up?"

Andrea gestured to the kitchen island, crossing the room to push some mail and other items aside to clear a workspace.

Michonne pulled out a few different liquor bottles, some fresh berries and simple syrup and started rummaging through Andrea's kitchen for her bar tools. Soon she was measuring and pouring while the other two ladies continued snacking.

"I can't believe we haven't done this since New Year's," Sasha lamented.

"Well, you've been in a little love cocoon with Bob so you've been hard to pin down." Andrea gave her a nudge with her shoulder and popped another crostini in her mouth.

"I've also been working twelve hour shifts and teaching recert classes, Ms. Nine to Five."

"Twelve hour shifts with your man," Andrea reminded her with a smirk.

"Either way I'm glad we're staying in tonight. This week has kicked my butt."

Michonne agreed and handed each one of her friends a pretty, violet tinted cocktail.

Andrea took a sip and moaned her approval. "This is delicious! I'm going to have to pace myself tonight."

"Yeah, that's gonna happen," Sasha grinned, taking her glass and motioning for them to move into the living room.

Michonne and Andrea followed, taking a seat on the cream colored couch while Sasha plopped into an oversized chair across from them.

"I wish Maggie and Rosita could have made it," she sighed, pulling a pillow from behind her and setting it on her lap to rest her drink. "Glenn said Maggie's been working long hours too, what's up with that?" Sasha addressed the question to Michonne but found her looking down at her phone, lost in whatever she was gazing at.

"Michonne?"

"Huh?"

"I asked what's up with Mags working so much?"

"Oh, we've been fielding a lot of calls about that drug task force ever since the paper did a story on it. The P.R. department is responsible for handling the inquiries and putting together the press on it. Deanna really wants them to sell it."

"I bet she does. We responded to two overdoses this week. This shit is getting out of hand."

Sasha noticed Michonne go right back to her phone and shot Andrea a questioning glance.

"What's so important?" Andrea asked, kicking Michonne's foot with hers.

Her head snapped up and she put her phone back in her pocket. "Nothing. Sorry."

"Why are you so quiet? We finally get you away from Rick for a night and you don't even talk to us."

"I'm talking," she protested, taking a sip of her drink.

"So how are things with you two?" Sasha asked, feeling like she needed to play catch up. She hated to admit Andrea was right, but she'd been so caught up in her own relationship that Rick and Michonne jumping out of the friend zone was still headline news. "I'm still getting used to this being an actual thing," she said excitedly.

"Oh, it's a thing," Andrea interjected. "Here I am giving you a hard time when Michonne has been practically living at Rick's for the last week."

"I just want to be around right now."

Sasha's smile faded, understanding the two weren't exactly relishing their alone time given the circumstances. "So, how's he handling it?" Sasha asked. "I can't believe he actually sent Carl there without a fight." Lori being back around was also something she was getting used to, having only recently been filled in by Abraham on this turn of events.

"He had his reasons," she sighed.

"I'm sure he's grateful to have you there," Andrea said, showing a rare moment of compassion.

Michonne nodded, a lump growing in her throat. "He's hurting and there's nothing I can do," she admitted, feeling tears starting to form in her eyes for the second time that day. She was embarrassed by the display, never one to let her emotions spill over, but being with Rick was teaching her how to let her guard down and she needed to get this off of her chest. The heart to heart with Rebeccah and the flowing cocktails weren't helping her composure.

"Oh, sweetheart," Sasha whispered.

"Michonne, are you kidding?" Andrea scoffed. "The fact that Carl is with Lori and Rick hasn't completely gone off the deep end and murdered someone? That's all because of you. You're doing a lot."

Sasha squinted at Andrea's choice of words while Michonne tried to discreetly wipe her eyes. "I'm sure what Andrea meant to say is that you're helping him just by being there. He's changed since the two of you have been together, even before you were _together_."

Michonne nodded, grateful for her friend's support but not completely convinced. It seemed like they were just treading water right now, circling each other's pain.

"Why don't you guys go away for the weekend or something?" Sasha said, interrupting her thoughts. "Take advantage of his nights being free until he gets Carl back, because he will." Sasha smiled at her friend hoping to convince her. "Oh! I know! Do something for Valentine's Day."

Andrea laughed out loud, shaking her head at Sasha.

"What?"

"Michonne hates Valentine's Day."

"Oh," Sasha said, pursing her lips. "Well, then just go away for the weekend and pretend it's not Valentine's Day. Don't let the date ruin it for you. You could both use it."

Michonne took a sip of her drink, considering her idea. Rick did have the next weekend off and it would be good to get out of his hollow house away from Carl's quiet room and his empty seat at the table. They could go somewhere where they could be alone without feeling so alone.

"Maybe," she offered, turning back to her drink.

"No maybes about it," Andrea joined. She pulled out her phone and started typing. "Let's look up some places."

Michonne rolled her eyes for good measure but she still pushed across the couch to look over her friend's shoulder while she searched, brightening at the idea.

…

"Hell ya," Daryl exclaimed, banging his fist on the dashboard as the voice on the radio cheered a three point shot by the Hawks. "This game is in the bag."

Rick chuckled at him, only half listening as he read a text from Michonne.

" _Your mom's doing ok. And you were right...she did ask if I wanted to go shopping sometime."_

" _Told you,"_ He typed, keeping his head down for what he knew would be her immediate retort.

"There's another car," Daryl announced, interrupting his wait.

Rick set the phone down, leaning forward in his seat to peer at the tawny shingled, single story home, two houses down and across the street from where they were parked. He watched as a beat up, black coupe pulled into the driveway and two men, their details undefined in the dark, walked up the steps. After a moment the door opened casting a bright light behind the home's occupant, obscuring his features as well. The men disappeared into the house and Daryl took note of the time.

"Let's see if it's another quick visit," Rick said, picking his vibrating phone back up from the dash.

" _I think it will be fun. We're setting it up."_

" _You may regret this, Michonne."_ He replied with a smirk on his face despite her inability to see him.

"You tell 'Chonne where we are?" Daryl asked, assuming she was on the other end of his partner's furious typing.

"No," he said, giving Daryl his full attention. "I'll tell her if we see something. Otherwise we're just eating pretzels and listening to the game, right?"

"Right," Daryl agreed. What Michonne didn't know wouldn't hurt her when it came to the task force getting wind of their extra curricular activities. Daryl knew they'd have no recourse even if they didn't agree. He and Rick weren't doing anything wrong, but still, better if it was just the two of them treading that thin line.

" _Andrea's getting pissed. I'll talk to you tomorrow and I'll see you in a couple days."_

" _Ok, goodnight."_ Rick slipped the phone back in his pocket, shifting in his seat to resume his watch on their target.

"You talked to Carl?" Daryl asked, seeing Rick's other conversation come to an end.

Rick let out a long breath, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on his thigh as he answered. "This morning."

"He still pissed?"

"Yeah. He is. He thinks I'm selling him out; givin' in to avoid fighting with her anymore."

"He say that?" Daryl asked, his eyebrows raised at the boy's take on the situation.

Rick dropped his gaze, fiddling with his watch as he replayed his son's words in his head. "I tried to explain to him it was the only way, that going to court was a bad move, but he said I was weak, that if I cared I would stand up to her...he said that I've been fighting everyone since the day she left, but I'm too scared to fight for him."

Daryl turned his gaze back out the window, giving Rick a moment of privacy despite their close quarters. "Jesus," he breathed, feeling a pain in his gut for his friend. "He's still a kid, man. He'll get it someday."

"I just hope he's still talkin' to me by then."

Both men went quiet, turning their attention back to the blaring sounds of the game that masked the otherwise somber silence they had fallen into. Dary nodded his approval when the final buzzer sounded and their team had won. He was reaching toward the dashboard to find a new distraction when they heard a loud rapping on the window behind him. Daryl's head whipped over his shoulder and Rick instinctively palmed the .357 hanging at his waist.

They spotted a man in a black jacket, late twenties with shaggy brown hair. He used a gloved fist to knock a short trail from the back window to Daryl's, and Rick took care to memorize the man's features as he approached. Daryl quickly glanced over at his partner, suggesting with his eyes that he cover his gun and act cool. Rick let go of his weapon and turned the key one more click, allowing Daryl to roll down the window.

"Can I help you?" Daryl asked, keeping his voice firm, yet non-confrontational. He really didn't want to have to use anything but words to get this guy to move on. It wasn't worth blowing their cover.

"I was going to ask you gentleman the same thing," the baby faced man answered. His smile made him look like a boy in man's clothes, but Rick didn't like his tone. This wasn't some innocent kid. "You guys have been parked here awhile. Having some car trouble?"

"Nah, we're doing just fine. Thanks for your concern," Rick offered, matching Daryl's confident timbre.

"Well if you're able to, I'd suggest you move on," the man prodded. He made a show of looking Rick's vehicle up and down, as if collecting the details for future use. He looked hard at the two of them then his face broke into a smug smile. "You're scaring the neighbors," he played, his voice lilting. At the same time as his inflection lightened he moved his hand along his belt, pushing aside his open jacket as it settled on his hip and both of their gazes fell on the handgun holstered against his torso.

Daryl looked him up and down once more, gathering as much detail as he could before slowly nodding. "Wouldn't want to worry anyone," he smirked. "We'll just be heading out."

The man dipped his head, looking across Daryl and over to Rick, seemingly sizing him up through his long, brown bangs. Rick kept his eyes down, attempting to conceal his face as much as possible before mirroring Daryl's nod. He turned the key for its last revolution and heard the car come to life. He briefly waiting for the man to step away but when he didn't, Rick pulled out anyway, ignoring his proximity to the moving vehicle, and slowly rolled down the quiet street, past the house in question.

They turned the corner, putting enough visual distance between themselves and their new friend so that Rick could resume his normal speed, and exchanged a glance.

"Looks like that tip held some weight," Rick declared.

"Now we got a face and a location."

"We're not gonna get away with watching that house again. They'll be looking for my car, watching for any others."

"Then we figure out who the frat boy is and find out why he's carryin' on his evening stroll 'round this quiet little neighborhood."

Rick nodded. "Alright," he drawled, his focus on the road. "And let's keep quiet about this 'till we do."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N** **To the guest who expressed frustration at these chapters and Rick's reaction: I don't think he is spineless, I think he is the type of character who takes on the weight of the world and doesn't always react the way we want him to. Even though he is the hero of the story he is only human. I really wanted to explore the themes in the show in an AU, where the characters mean the same thing to each other, even though the situations are quite obviously different without the apocalypse. Rick does spend some time hopeless and defeated and I think we all felt frustrated by that in the show, but Rick Grimes is not Rick Grimes without his torture and resurrection and I wanted to explore how that might play out here. It was fun bringing these two together, just like it was watching it on the show, but it's also nice to see how they handle adversity now that they found each other and with the new strengths they gain from each other. That's really what the Richonne love affair is all about, right? We all know what brings him back in the end. Anyway, I hope you keep reading and thank you for reviewing, it means a lot. :)**

Also, to the guest who asked if this was my first fic, it is my first fanfiction attempt but I was a creative writing minor in college so I've written a lot of fictional works before. This has been my favorite experience thus far, though!

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Remember, the rule: this is not a Valentine's Day trip," Michonne reminded as she pulled her suitcase out of the back of Rick's SUV and shut the gate. "It's just a weekend off in February."

"Right," he agreed, taking the bag from her and shaking his head with a smile.

He looked down at the key in his hand to find the number of the room they would be calling home for the next two days and started down the row of bright orange doors. From the parking lot side, the building looked like a strip motel, one long wall of rooms. However, the view from the front that they had seen on the brochure was entirely more luxurious. The other side of their room opened up to a breathtaking view of the now grey and choppy lake, with a private patio, surrounded by tall lattice work, and home to an open air hot tub that had been calling Michonne's name since Andrea pulled the website up and excitedly flipped through the pictures.

Despite the beautiful accommodations, the place looked fairly deserted being that February wasn't prime season to be escaping to the waterfront resort. Both of them found the relative seclusion to be one of the selling points. Rick stopped in front of their room, just as the sullen sky started to spill cold rain drops onto them.

"It's kinda weird, you know," he said, entering the room and setting down their suitcases.

"What?"

"A woman that hates Valentine's Day," he looked over his shoulder at her with a playful smile.

"It's a made up holiday to make single women feel bad about themselves," she huffed, feeling the need to make sure he understood that she wasn't exaggerating her disdain for the day.

"You're not single."

"It's the principle."

"Ok," he surrendered. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and dropped it and his keys onto the dresser the room provided. "Lori loved it," he remembered out loud. "She'd always want to dress up and go out somewhere fancy and stuffy. Neither of us really cared for those types of places, but she figured that was what you were supposed to do on Valentine's Day."

She looked at him with an understanding smile from the seat she had taken on the bed. "Well, you're off the hook this year, Grimes. Dinner in the hotel bar, followed by drinks in the hot tub is as fancy as we're getting."

He turned to look at her with a sheepish grin, leaning against the drawers.

"What?"

"I hope it's not just this year."

She smiled, crossing the room to where he stood, and threw her arms around his neck. "Me too," she said, standing on her toes to kiss his mouth.

…

The rain that had been falling when they made the walk to the hotel bar for dinner had now started to crystalize as the wind whipped around them, dropping the temperature significantly. Rick held his coat open and over Michonne's head as she tucked under his arm. They hesitated just a moment before making a dash out of the warm tavern and into the growing storm toward their room.

"Ok, admit it," she said, raising her voice just a little to speak over the wind. "You didn't like the tapas on our first date."

"What? That's not true," he argued. "I enjoyed them. I just also enjoy a good burger."

"I didn't hear you moan like that after the montaditos."

"Which one was that?" he asked, scrunching his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes at him playfully, in response. They made it to the concrete path leading to their block of rooms, and she slipped out of his embrace to lead the way along the narrow strip.

"My burger was delicious too."

"It was a veggie burger, so I doubt it," he laughed, following close behind her.

"Some of us have to put a bikini on in a few minutes."

He gave her a lustful grin, suddenly feeling as excited as she was for the extra amenity the room offered. They stopped outside of the entrance, finally covered from the elements by the portico above them and Rick pulled the key out of his pocket, letting them through the door.

Michonne immediately started disrobing as she crossed the room, anxious to finally get out onto their patio and into the hot tub. She tossed a towel at him from the shelf just inside the bathroom door and went to dig out her bikini. "Did you really bring a bathing suit? Because I kind of don't believe you own one."

"I have a suit," he assured her. "You know we're going to get pelted with ice out there."

"It's not that bad," she replied, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

"Ok," he relented, opening the drawer where he had placed his clothes. He pulled out a rather new looking pair of blue swim trunks and she wondered whether he had purchased them for this trip, or just had very few occasions to wear them.

She pulled her jeans and underwear down over her hips, stepping out of them and reached for the black bikini bottoms she had brought, but before she could put them on Rick's hands were wrapped around her naked waist.

"Shorts. Let's go," she instructed, summoning a firmness to her voice and pulling out of his embrace with a giggle. She was intent on making it out to the patio.

He reluctantly stepped back to his task with a groan, allowing her to pull on both pieces of her bathing suit, and secure her locs in a bun on top of her head without further interruption. When she was done she turned back to find him bent over the mini fridge, pulling out a bottle of champagne, his shorts slung low on his hips and his torso bare.

"Where'd that bottle come from?" she asked, her eyes still surveying this new look of his.

"Came with the room," he answered. "It was part of the...uh, random weekend in February package."

Michonne rolled her eyes out of dedication to her cause, but she was secretly excited about the bubbly drink. She grabbed two plastic cups from the counter and gathered their towels, watching as Rick opened the sliding glass door and popped the cork on the bottle, sending it flying out onto the patio. She handed him the ice bucket with her free hand, and he stepped aside, allowing her to lead the way out into the freezing cold.

"This is great," he shivered, taking their stuff from her and piling it onto a small table beside the tub, under the shelter of an awning.

She smiled brightly at him, tipping her head back and bravely letting the cold precipitation assault her body for a few moments before he ushered her forward toward the tub. Handing him her drink to hold, she climbed the steps with intentional delay, causing him to hurry her along with a tap to her behind. She settled into the steaming, bubbling water and reached out for their drinks as he stepped to join her.

"This is a good look on you, Rick," she flirted, eyeing him up and down again before he slid under the foam.

"Freezing?"

"No, I mean half naked," she handed him back his drink and watched him take a sip.

"This is nice too," he said, gesturing to her suit. He was particularly enjoying the way small beads of sweat were already forming where the tight halter top pushed her cleavage together.

She smiled, holding up her cup to his and tapping them together. "This was a good idea."

"It was," he agreed, putting an arm around her. He went quiet for awhile, finally accepting the pleasure of the icy rain from above mixing with the heat below, but she recognized his silence was heavier than contentment. His thoughts were running away somewhere less relaxing.

"Let's play a game," she suggested, sliding away from his embrace and sitting opposite of him.

He eyed her suspiciously and brought his cup to his lips for a sip.

"Wait!" she yelled. "That's part of the game. Don't drink yet."

"I don't think you're supposed to play drinking games in a hot tub," he warned, his tone turning serious. "The heat and the alcohol don't mix, you'll end up passing out."

"Ok, Deputy," she teased. "This isn't a get drunk game, it's a silent communication game." She raised her eyebrow challenging him. "You in?"

"How's it work?"

"You ask a 'yes-or-no' question and the other person takes one sip of their drink if the answer is yes, two sips if the answer is no."

"And you don't get drunk playing this with alcohol?"

"Just take small sips," she sighed, settling her feet on his lap and resting her arms on the edge of the tub behind her. "Come on."

"Ok, ok," he surrendered. "I go first." He squinted at her while he formulated a question in his mind, attempting to get a read on how deep he was supposed to dig. "Do you really hate Valentine's Day?" he settled on.

Michonne smirked at his innocuous approach to this game. He was going to regret that. She brought her cup to her lips in dramatic fashion, making sure to punctuate her single sip with a loud smack of her tongue.

He laughed at her, settling back in his seat and gesturing with an open palm for her to take her turn.

She zeroed in on his eyes with a wicked grin, wanting to see his reaction to her first inquiry. "Did you want to kiss me on Hershel's porch last Thanksgiving?"

Rick looked dumbstruck for a moment, to her delight, but he quickly steeled his face and confidently took an affirmative, singular sip.

Now realizing what kind of game she had in mind, he took a few moments to craft his next query. Once he decided what he wanted to know, he playfully pushed her feet off of his lap and sat up, leaning across the tub to invade her personal space and up the discomfort quotient he was hoping for.

"Does my uniform turn you on?"

Michonne instantly felt her cheeks burn and her mouth drop open without her permission. She didn't like to let herself admit what the sight of him in that uniform did to her. She'd never thought of herself as the type to be excited by authority; she was far too liberated for that. It was embarrassing. She scowled at his cocky smile, trying to discern how the hell he figured that out, but she respected the integrity of her game so she gave him one sip.

Luckily her turn had come again and he had earned her next question. "Were you jealous of Mike on New Year's?"

"No," he scoffed.

"You're supposed to drink your answer!"

He brought his cup to his lips, draining it in two large gulps, then reached behind him, stretching to get to the table where the ice bucket sat.

"And you're supposed to tell the truth," she instructed. She watched with a dubious look on her face as he refilled his cup..

"I am," he defended, his twang deepening with each sip of the champagne. "I wasn't jealous, I knew he wasn't your type."

"Oh, really? And what is my type?"

"A man in uniform, I guess." He shrugged and his blue eyes percolated with charm. She had half a mind to kiss that smug smile off of his face, but she knew she would have another turn coming up that she wasn't about to squander. She settled for splashing a handful of foam at him.

"Were you tellin' the truth?" he asked, dodging her watery assault. "When you said he never stood a chance?"

Her incredulous look was replaced by a sweet smile at his subtle follow up question that defied his previous confidence. She took one sip.

"Are Daryl and Rosita in a secret relationship?" she blurted excitedly. She'd been wondering about this since his cagey response last time.

Rick laughed out loud. "That was a wasted turn." He took two more sips.

"What? Why?"

"You think either of them would care enough about what we thought to hide it from us?"

She had to agree, it didn't seem like Daryl to be that circumspect and Rosita was pretty open about her flings. She frowned, trying to conjure something juicier for her next turn. She almost forgot she had to answer one first until she heard him speak.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thang? Lettin' Carl stay with Lori?"

She froze for a moment, startled by his digression. She couldn't quantify her answer into yes or no. She did think he was doing the right thing, at first. She knew as a lawyer, if his ex-wife was her client, she would have a field day with Rick's recent past. Sure, Lori's actions were vile when it came to her marriage, but people get cheated on every day. A good lawyer could easily paint his reaction as extreme. Now that Carl was there, however, and the boy was clearly as despondent as his father was about it, she was starting to change her mind. Rebeccah's words came flooding back to her: there was more than one way to lose Carl. She took a sip, then another, then another, continuing until she had emptied her cup, but given no response.

"You know I'm with you," she said. "But I'm not so sure this is right anymore." She slid back across the bench, settling against him.

He nodded, his eyes cast downward, studying the churning, torrid water as it bubbled discontentedly around them. The tumultuous current echoed the restlessness in his heart. "Me either," he confessed.

"You need to consider there are risks either way," she whispered against his chest.

Rick sighed, tipping his head back and letting the cold rain wash over him, punishing his face. "You know I couldn't do this without you, right? You're the only thing keeping me afloat." He laced his fingers through hers and brought her arm to his mouth, placing a kiss on her wrist. "Thank you."

She pulled up onto her knees, letting the water carry her weight as she slung a leg over his lap, straddling him. "You're welcome."

"I think it's your turn," he smiled, running his hand up her thigh.

She pulled back slightly, settling on the edge of his knees, and contemplated the change in mood. "New game," she declared. "Truth or Dare."

"Really?" he chuckled.

"Yes, really. Choose."

"Truth," he answered, as if it was the only choice.

"Boring," she judged. "But ok...Tell me something about you that you're embarrassed by."

His eyes danced around her face, taking in the woman who had somehow persuaded him to play a childhood slumber party game, and actually enjoy it. He had the sudden urge to swoop her up and carry her back into the room where they could move on to the physical part of this intimate exploration. The lightness in his head, however, told him he wouldn't be carrying her anywhere. "I'm embarrassed at how buzzed I am off of three glasses of champagne," he admitted with a lopsided grin.

She threw her head back and laughed brightly. "That's why I love you, Grimes," she snorted.

As soon as the words left her mouth she felt them in her chest. She'd uttered the phrase without thinking, but she realized then that the words had merely slipped from her heart onto her tongue. She focused on his face, watching a timid smile spread across his lips. His eyes glanced down, then met hers, holding them in a tender gaze. All of a sudden he broke out into a soft chuckle, his eyes still flickering with intensity.

"What?" she asked, starting to wonder if she had made a mistake.

"You do realize you just told me you loved me for the first time on Valentine's Day?"

Her eyes involuntarily rolled as she realized she had fallen into such a cliche. "Damn it," she groaned, placing her palms on his chest and hanging her head between them.

He laughed at her irritation, tipping her chin up and pulling her in so their foreheads were resting against each other. "Do you want me to wait until tomorrow to say it back?" he whispered.

"You'd better not," she exclaimed, her heart leaping at the imminence of his declaration.

His humorous smile faded to an intense look of adoration as he captured her mouth, lingering in a shallow, easy kiss. The fact that they hadn't exchanged those words yet threw him, as he realized he had felt them long before he'd ever been granted permission to whisper them in her ear, or utter them against her bare skin. Now that he'd heard the sweet way they fell from her lips, he craved them. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, the heat between them rivaling the heat of the water. His lips barely grazed hers as he whispered against them. "I love you, Michonne."

He seized her mouth again, deepening their kiss and her arms found their way around his neck, guarding against the threat of the flowing water breaking their tight embrace. She welcomed the growing ardor with which he kissed her. Her position atop his lap left her body exposed to the sharp drops still falling from the sky, but the pain only served to heighten her excitement as his became more evident beneath her.

They remained there, their tongues dancing and hands exploring until the need to move beyond the constraints of the tub overtook them and they simultaneously felt beckoned out of the water and into their private room.

Rick reached out blindly behind him, his mouth still glued to hers, and tried to feel around for the towels that he set on the table. He managed to knock over the almost empty bottle of champagne, causing the liquid to erupt out of the spout and splash onto the stones of the patio. Michonne finally pulled away, hoisting herself over his shoulder to assist in securing the towels. She stood, wrapping one around her shoulders and he followed. They both knew where they wanted to be without needing to speak. He followed her out of the tub, holding fast to the railing with one hand, the other greedily clinging to her hips as he watched them sway in front of him.

The cold air spurred them toward their destination but the slippery patio, and the enhanced intoxication Rick had warned her about, made it necessary to temper their pace with cautious steps. The added moments it took to make the short stride were torturous and his glossy eyes became hooded with need as he flung open the patio door and allowed her to saunter by him into the room.

He closed the door with a thud and took no time in dropping his towel and gathering her to him, walking them somewhat unsteadily toward the bed. He laid her backward, crawling onto his knees above her and licking his lips as he dropped his head to the sharp line of cleavage that her top drew. She shivered beneath him and at first it only propelled his pace until he realized her skin was covered in goosebumps that he couldn't take credit for.

"Michonne, you're freezing," he said, pulling back to look at her and rubbing his hands along her arms to soothe the pimpled flesh.

"I know," she admitted. "You may have been right about the weather."

Rick reached down to gather the folded blanket from the foot of the bed. He shook it out with one hand, his other pulling her up to a seated position beside him on the edge of the bed. "Take your wet bathing suit off," he instructed. She shimmied out of her bottoms, passing them to his outstretched hand and watched as he effortlessly tossed them onto the tile floor of the open bathroom. Then he reached around her to untie the halter of her top, setting her perfect breasts free and distracting him momentarily from his task. She undid the tie behind her back, letting it fall beside them, as he quickly loosened the knot that held his shorts up. He slid them off and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.

Their flesh pressed together and encased in warmth, Rick returned to her mouth, kissing her as if the brief time he'd spent away had been unbearable. Michonne wrapped her legs around his waist and allowed herself to melt, his strong arms holding her up. This man had a way of crumbling her walls on command, leaving her feeling conquered by him and buoyed by him all at once.

Despite his obvious readiness, Rick was never one to rush things. He shifted her backwards and his hand fell between them, giving her his full attention. She only let him continue for a few moments, however. His hands were persuasive, but she wasn't interested in foreplay. She knew they would indulge in plenty of that this weekend. Right now her only desire was to be as close as possible to him, to feel their bodies affirm what they had acknowledged with their words. She used his shoulders to lift herself, pulling her legs back beneath her and slowly sank down onto him without warning.

Rick groaned at their joining, his arms now wrapped low around her waist, palming her ass to assist with her rhythm. His head fell to her shoulder as if his current occupation left him no strength to hold it up. Once she'd made her intentions known and he recovered from her impatient pace, he stood without breaking their union, and placed her beneath him, keeping the blanket wrapped tight around her and covering her with his warm torso. She was more than willing to let him take over, his intense eyes and dominating embrace hypnotized her into baring her soul like she'd never done before and she relished in following him where he wanted to go.

When he finally carried her over the threshold of release, he allowed himself to follow her, ceding his control and letting her hold him tightly against her. He growled against her shoulder, then dropped his head to the crook of her neck, and softened into her embrace. It was like that with them, she mused. They fluidly passed command between them as their needs demanded. He drew strength from her, then used it to build her a shelter where she felt safer than she'd ever been.

He shifted his weight to her side, adjusting the blanket around her, though she was thoroughly warmed by now, and she slid her fingers into his hair stroking his damp strands until she felt his breathing settle. Both on the precipice of a restful sleep, he sought her affirmation one more time with his own. "I love you," he whispered, staying awake just long enough for her return to find his ear.

"I love you too," she breathed, letting her comfort and satisfaction over take her.

…

The weather wouldn't relinquish its command over their getaway. The next day was as dreary and threatening as the last, but neither one of them complained at the excuse to remain wrapped in each other with nowhere to be. The day passed with no accomplishments, save for a walk to the water during a break in the precipitation, and a drive into the local town to pick up more provisions. It could hardly be labeled a waste though, with all of their basic needs having been met and satisfaction coursing through them. Nothing was exactly what they wanted to do.

Evening had fallen and Rick was starting to get a second wind, looking through the stack of menus from local restaurants that their room was supplied with.

"Do we have to get dressed?" Michonne asked. He had suggested a local eatery with a healthy selection of internationally inspired dishes he thought she would like, but she was unconvinced that she wanted to move.

"We could just order take out but we always do that." He nudged her hip with his foot as she lay opposite him, her head at the foot of the bed, propped on a pillow. "We'll go get dinner, then come back and I'll help you get right back out of your clothes."

"Alright," she said with an exaggerated whine. "Hand me my shirt. I'll go get ready."

He tossed her t-shirt to her and she slipped it on over her bra, rolling off the bed lazily. After putting on a pair of dark jeans and a soft, cream colored sweater she pulled out her makeup bag for the first time since they arrived and applied a few quick touches. She peaked out the window to check the current weather status before slipping into a pair of heels that assured Rick the decision to get dressed was the right one.

The drive was short and they found the place from the menu easily. They chose a corner table when they arrived, seating themselves in the rather empty restaurant.

"I guess most people went out last night," Michonne deduced sliding her chair closer to Rick's. A band was setting up on a small stage across the room and she wanted to face the performance.

Rick handed her a menu and immediately opened his to the carnivore section, causing Michonne to laugh at his predictability. He was right though, in addition to the All American classics, the place did have some interesting exotic options. They decided to split a bottle of wine and each ordered a meal typical to their tastes while watching the band strum a few warm up notes.

"This is fun," Michonne said, gesturing to the stage. "I'm glad you made us come."

He nodded into his glass of wine, slipping an arm around her shoulder. Michonne pulled out her phone to make sure the ringer was off before the performance started and chuckled when she saw the screen.

"What?" Rick asked, intrigued by her reaction.

"Your mom texted me a recipe for her homemade spanish rice. I told her my mom used to make it."

Rick groaned, mimicking Michonne's signature eye roll. "She's not gonna stop. I warned you."

"It makes me happy," she confessed, dropping her phone back in her bag. "I didn't realize how much I missed having my mother to talk to until I started spending time with Rebeccah. Thank you...for sharing your family with me."

The lead singer was introducing himself on stage and the music began to fill the small space. Rick raised his voice to speak over the opening song. "You don't have to thank me, Michonne. They like having you around. My mom can't stop gushing about you. She's worse than Carl."

Michonne smiled wistfully, thinking of the special friendship she had with his son. "But I am grateful, Rick. The way you just handed your heart over to me, your son, your family. The way you trusted me with that, that was everything. I hope you know that."

Rick pulled her closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Tell me about your mom," he said, quietly stroking her arm.

She laughed to herself, wondering where to start. "She was a lot like yours. Always trying to love everyone with food. She'd do anything for her grandkids. She helped my brother and sister-in-law a lot with the boys. They were the joy of her life; that and discussing everybody's business," she joked. "She was quite the gossip."

"I guess they are alike," he grinned. "What about your dad?"

"He is quite the character. He's sixty-five going on twenty-five, always going to this event or that. The man has a busier schedule than me." She smiled thinking of how her father had blossomed since retirement. "He lives and breathes for his family, though."

Rick smiled quietly at her description, finding himself intrigued by the man who created a woman like her.

"He's going to like you," she smiled, squeezing his leg under the table.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a good dad, like him."

He winced imperceptibly at her words. He thought of his last conversation with Carl and considered that his son probably wouldn't agree with that statement anymore. Not when he judged Rick to be the reason he was shipped off to his estranged mother like some household item she left behind in the divorce and then decided she wanted back. Carl blamed him, and not even for the same reasons he blamed himself. Everywhere he turned now he was paying the price for letting his anger control him, at work, with his son. He'd made too many mistakes to claim that title.

He could feel her eyes on him, realizing he had slipped into his own head yet again. He gave her a small smile and held his glass up to his lips. "He's gotta be if he raised you," he said, using his drink to mask the lump in his throat.

 **...**

The morning came far too soon, bringing with it the end of their weekend and the long drive home. The sun peeked through the clouds just in time to paint a thousand little diamonds on the lake as Michonne stared out the windshield of Rick's car, wishing they had another day before they had to return. Rick closed the tailgate after securing their bags and joined her in the car.

"You hungover?" he asked sympathetically, eyeing her dark sunglasses and slightly reclined seat.

"No, just tired."

"You're the one who wanted to stay to see the band's whole set," he lectured playfully.

She smiled, remembering him holding her close on the dance floor despite being firmly against the idea. A couple strong drinks and a sappy, twangy country song had him giving in to her request, and she found herself pleasantly surprised that, even though they were merely swaying back and forth in an embrace, he kept to the rhythm of the music and lead her easily.

"It was worth it. I had fun. And besides, you were the one who kept me up after we got back."

"Also worth it," he smiled.

He started the car and pulled out his phone to use his GPS for the drive home, but it started ringing in the middle of his typing. Lori's home number flashed across the screen. He groaned loudly at her timing, but now that Carl was there he wouldn't think of ignoring the call in case it was something to do with him.

He answered, trying not to sound too gruff, and was startled when his son's voice greeted him on the other end. "Dad?"

"Carl, hey. What's going on, is everything ok?" He glanced over at Michonne who had sat up in her seat and was listening intently.

"No," the boy said angrily. "When were you going to tell me I'm switching schools?"

"What are you talking about, Carl? No one is talking about switching schools. Your mother has been driving you…"

"Yeah well that's what you guys said, but I know it's a bunch of bullshit."

"Watch your mouth," he said half heartedly.

"Really, Dad?" he argued. "How come Philip was on the phone with Woodbury School District asking about me starting classes there mid year?"

Rick's heart sank, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. "When was this?" he ground out.

"Friday. I asked mom about it and she said they want me to try it out." Carl could hear in his father's voice that this was news to him and he softened his tone. "I thought this was supposed to be temporary, until you worked a few things out... whatever that means."

"It is temporary, Carl. Your mother didn't...this wasn't something I agreed to. Where is she?" he demanded. "Put her on the phone."

"She's not here. I waited until she went to the store and took the phone into my room so Philip couldn't hear me."

"Carl," he started, keeping his voice confident. "I'm going to work this out, I promise. You're not switching schools. I'll call your mother."

"Dad, can I just come home?" His son's pleading tone was threatening to break him.

Rick dropped his head, releasing his grip on the wheel and pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "Just...let me talk to her."

"Okay," Carl reluctantly agreed. "I'll see you next weekend."

"You will," he answered. "Carl, I love you."

"I love you too, Dad." He hung up the phone and Rick dropped his on the dashboard, staring straight ahead.

"What's going on?" Michonne asked, pulling off her sunglasses, needing the eye contact.

"Philip's callin' the local school. Lori told him they want him to try going to school in Woodbury."

"She can't enroll him anywhere, Rick. She doesn't have custody." Michonne could feel her heartbeat speeding up, she knew Lori couldn't legally proceed with this plan, but the fact that she'd even formulated it scared her. She could see it scared him too.

"I'm sure she's planning on setting it up, then asking my permission."

"You can't allow that, Rick."

"I know," he said, leaning back against the headrest. "I know." He was quiet for a minute before turning in his seat to face her, his eyes imploring. "She'll fight me on it. Threaten to get the custody agreement amended."

She studied his face, recognizing he was struggling. She knew by now that she was the port when he was being tossed by the sea, but she was beginning to understand something else he needed that even he hadn't realized yet. She was now seeing he needed someone to tell him when the fury he felt was warranted. When unleashing it wasn't losing control, but taking it. Sometimes other people should be scared of him, because he was fighting for something that was as right and good as he was.

She reached toward him, cupping his face with her hand, making him hear her. "You can't go on like this, Rick," she said softly. "Carl doesn't want to be there and it's killing you to let him. It's not working out. No matter how much she thinks this is better for him. You know it's not." She watched as his eyes circled hers, visibly weighing every word. "Tell her he's coming home. Rick. It's going to be a battle either way, but it's one you need to fight."

He closed his eyes, breathing out a long sigh, before turning his face to press his lips to her palm. When he met her gaze again she saw his blue eyes flicker with a resolve that had been missing for awhile now. "Yeah," he said. "I know that now."


	25. Chapter 25

Rick felt the warm blood run down his arm as it flowed from the man's mouth, but he kept his elbow wrapped tightly around his throat, watching him gasp and sputter in his hold.

"You can't do this," the man croaked out.

"You had no problem doin' it to your wife though, did you?" Rick snapped the cuffs on the man's hands behind his back and shoved him out the kitchen door and down the steps to the cruiser. He could see Daryl taking his wife's statement on the front lawn, her eye bruised and swollen. They were frequent visitors to this house, and Rick was not in a patient mood this time around.

"Fuck you, Grimes. Why don't you worry about your own wife?" The man was catching his breath as Rick loosened his grip to open the cruiser door. "She's someone else's problem now, though. Ain't that right?"

Rick felt something inside him snap as he gripped the man's hair and shoved his face against the cruiser hard. Another spatter of blood to flew from his mouth and land across Rick's cheek, as he growled into his ear. "If I were you I'd keep my mouth shut if you want to keep all your teeth."

He tossed him into the back seat and slammed the door shut, turning around to see a group of neighbors huddled on their lawn, their attention now squarely on him.

"What?" he challenged, as he wiped the blood off of his face with the back of his hand.

"Rick!" Daryl growled as he approached the cruiser now smeared with the man's blood. 'Rick!"

…

Rick sat up quickly with a sharp breath, wiping at his cheek. He pulled his hand back and squinted in the dark, looking for the blood but finding it clean. His eyes began to focus and he saw the clock on Michonne's nightstand. Two in the morning.

She was sleeping peacefully beside him in his t-shirt and a pair of panties and he reached down to pull the covers over her shoulders, then carefully brushed his lips to the back of her head and slid out of bed. Michonne's house had no basement, being built on short stilts due to its spot by the lake, so the floorboards groaned excessively when walked on. Rick stepped gingerly in the spots that he had come to learn were the quietest, and made his way out to her living room. He collapsed on the couch, and pulled a knitted blanket off of the back, laying it across his legs.

It was eerily silent there in the winter. All of the places on the water were rentals and only a handful were year round. Rick enjoyed the quiet of it, though. He would often settle into this spot when he stayed over and found himself awake with no company. It happened more often than not that his sleep was disturbed, but he had gotten used to it and he used the silence to offset the noise in his head.

Tonight he had been startled awake by a memory that had threatened to weaken his resolve when it came to going up against Lori. He had received a written warning for that outburst, the first in his career. He'd only been back to work for a few weeks by then. He ran a hand over his face, considering that and the other scenes that played out over the next few months. They would all be part of Lori's argument, if she followed through with her threat to go to court, and he needed to be prepared for it.

He couldn't help but wonder how many of the details of last year would be new to Michonne when they were rehashed. It was like he had been existing under a dark veil of anger for months, until she came into his life and pushed it away like the sun parting the clouds. Maybe she knew that already. Maybe he was just that lucky that she had heard the whole story and still decided to love him. Maybe he wasn't that lucky and she would be forced to see him in a new light. There wasn't anything he could do about it now. He had to bring Carl home and deal with the consequences after. Michonne said it was going to be a fight, and she had to know he wasn't going to come out of it unscathed.

…

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Michonne asked, running a hand along his stubbled jaw. He got out of her bed late that morning, trying to make up for his time spent on the couch; too late to shave before dressing for work.

He glanced over at her in the passenger side of his car, perfectly put together as always, in a grey skirt and fitted black sweater. She was wearing a pair of opaque tights and, though he missed the sight of her bare skin, he was enjoying the smooth silhouette they drew. They rarely got to ride to work together due to Rick's shift always changing, but today would begin with a task force meeting that they both had to attend. Michonne had left her car at work the previous night, relishing in the few extra minutes each commute would allow them together.

"I got enough," he lied. "Did I wake you?"

"No, you didn't, but I saw you were gone at one point."

He glanced over at her, then back to navigating the road. "I was just thinkin' about how it's gonna go down...with Lori."

"What did you come up with?" she asked, hoping he wasn't having second thoughts.

"I'll call her today. Let her know that when I come pick Carl up this weekend, he's not comin' back."

She nodded, keeping her eyes on his face as he drove. He looked determined and she settled back against her seat with relief.

He pulled up to a stoplight in the middle of a deserted intersection; the kind that never ceased to summon a chuckle from her when she remembered her previous morning commutes in the city. She didn't mind stopping this morning, though. She reached over again, settling her hand at the back of his neck and squeezing gently at his tight muscles while he groaned his approval. Their eyes met and he smiled contentedly at the touch. She was about to offer her massage services for later that night when suddenly the car lurched forward and they heard a loud crack of metal colliding.

"Shit," he exclaimed, realizing they had just been rear-ended. "Are you ok?" He put the car in park and looked her over.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She turned in her seat to look out the rearview window just in time to see a black SUV reverse slightly and tap Rick's bumper again, with a loud rev of the engine. "What the hell? Rick?"

Realization dawned on Rick's face and he put a hand on her shoulder turning her back to face the front. He removed his gun from his holster, clicking off the safety and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Stay here," he ordered.

He was preparing to get out of the car when the SUV revved its engine one more time and took off around his vehicle, speeding off ahead of them.

"Rick, what is going on?" she demanded. She watched as he settled back in his seat and calmly picked up his cellphone and began dialing. "Are you going to go after them?"

"No," he replied without meeting her eyes. "I'm gonna call it in and let one of the other guys handle it."

"Why?" she asked tentatively, hoping he was just being cautious because she was with him, but sensing there was more to it.

"I don't think they know I'm a cop yet." His answer gave her no explanation and he paused to speak to the dispatcher whom he had been connected to, giving a description of the vehicle and incident before hanging up.

Michonne continued to stare at him, silently waiting for him to confess to whatever it was that just happened. He finally turned toward her, unsure what her reaction would be when he divulged his unsanctioned stake-out with Daryl, but there was no getting around it now. He grabbed her hand and tipped his head slightly to meet her eyes. "I have to call Daryl. It will only take a minute. Then I'll tell you everything."

…

"So they recognized your personal vehicle?" Aaron asked, his eyes wide. "Holy shit."

Rick looked around the room at the group of citizens turned crime fighters that Deanna had assembled for her "Community Strikes Back" task force (as she had coined it to the press). Aaron Alexander headed up a nonprofit that organized services for indigent people in the community, especially treatment services. Deanna thought he could offer some insight on the economic factors that were leading people into addiction. As much as Rick was angry that this task force was given sole power to decide how the town would proceed, he found a couple other members, in addition to Michonne, to be competent and trustworthy. Aaron was one of them and Dr. Denise Cloyd was the other.

Rick was immediately unhappy to find that Deanna had chosen the state psychologist who had been assigned to his mandatory counseling after he was shot, to work with him here. He thought it was a play on her part to keep an eye on him. After the group had met a few times, though, he had to agree her experience seeing patients in the rehab facility was well suited to the group's intentions.

"What were you going to do, Grimes?" Pete Anderson growled. "Sit outside the place until you saw something, then charge in there and beat the hell out of 'em?" He shook his head mockingly. "Who the hell do you two think you are?" He gestured at Rick and Daryl while he sipped his coffee.

Rick leaned back in his chair, squinting at Pete and willing himself calm before he would respond, but Michonne beat him to the punch. "It seems to me, Pete, that the deputies shared this information with us because it was relevant to the case, certainly not to hear your personal opinion on the matter." She scowled at him with a fierceness Rick had yet to witness. "This group holds no authority over the way the Sheriff's Department carries out their investigation."

Rick held his gaze on her, thanking her with his eyes. She had been quiet since he relayed the story to her the first time, silently taking in the details of the baby-faced man who had taken notice of them and issued a not so thinly veiled threat regarding their presence there. She had listened and nodded, giving no indication of her feelings on the matter. He feared she was angry with him, but knew a conversation had to wait if they were going to be on time for this meeting.

Pete wasn't done. He turned his shoulders toward Michonne as he spoke. "This from the woman sleeping with the psycho cop," he sneered. "Do _you_ hold any authority over him, Michonne? Maybe you could slip some common sense into your pillow talk."

Daryl had had enough now, roughly shoving his chair out from beneath him and standing to pace menacingly.

"Don't talk to her like that," Rick warned. His voice was low and calm, but his eyes betrayed his rage. He remained seated, cocking his head to the side to challenge the man. Pete's comment had caught him off guard as he had no reason to think the group was aware of his relationship with Michonne. He made a mental note to add that to the list of things they needed to discuss.

"Look," Denise spoke up, startling the group. She didn't interject much and they certainly weren't used to the tone she was using. "None of this helps our task right now. Rick, Daryl," she said, turning her attention to the two deputies, "Be careful and keep us informed. Pete, stop being a dick and start bringing something to the table."

The room went silent for a moment and Rick looked back at Michonne, seeing a glimpse of a smile form on her face at the quiet, bespectacled woman's admonishment, but it quickly faded when she met his eyes.

"Dr. Cloyd, I'm glad you're feeling so fulfilled by this task," Pete finally said, "but let's get one thing straight, the only reason I'm here is because the hospital is pushing their recovery center and they thought it would look good if one of the board members served on this little side project. I don't give a shit if you cure every one of these addicts or if Grimes and Dixon drag 'em out in the street and shoot 'em. At the end of the day I've done my job by sitting in while you create your report and hand it off to Monroe."

Michonne looked ready to pounce as she glared across the table at Pete. Rick had to fight the urge to get up and go to her, knowing she was feeling personally offended at Anderson's flippant attitude toward this work that she believed in. He knew he couldn't though, so he settled on pulling Pete back into his own sights.

"That's right, Pete," he started. "This little drug problem isn't quite as high-class as your nightly indulgences in the top shelf of your liquor cabinet. Why should you give a shit about these kids?" Rick had picked up a few stories of his own before he became the subject of the gossip and he wasn't feeling any remorse for throwing them back at Pete.

Pete's mouth turned up into a smug smile before he pushed his chair slowly from the table. "I think it's time to take a break," he said, holding up his empty coffee cup.

Aaron eyed each one of them before agreeing. "Let's meet back here in fifteen."

…

"Michonne," Rick called down the hallway. He had purposely lingered with Daryl, making sure they left the table separately, but he had every intention of catching up to her once the others had dispersed. She knew this, so she was taking her time filling her water bottle from the fountain in the hallway where the bathrooms were located.

She looked up at his voice and to his relief she allowed a small smile when she saw him. He glanced around the hallway for anyone they knew before stepping toward her.

"It's ok," she said, noticing his scan of their surroundings. "Deanna already chose me. It doesn't matter if Pete or anyone else knows now."

He was glad to hear her say this, but there was something in her voice that still had him uncomfortable. "Pete's an asshole."

"I know," she replied, placing her hand on his bicep briefly, then letting it fall again.

"We need to talk," he ventured, not looking forward to finding out what it would be like for her to be angry with him. It had been almost two months and they had yet to do that.

"We do," she agreed. "Are you staying over tonight or am I?"

Her assertion that they would still be sharing a bed this evening loosened his shoulders a bit, but he was still worried. He wanted to ask her then what she was feeling, but just as he reached out for her hand, Aaron came out of the men's room and startled at their presence.

"Hey guys," he said. "Sorry." He looked down at their joined hands and quickly looked away, taking off down the hall. "I'll see you in there."

Rick looked at his watch, realizing they were out of time and dropped her hand. "You walking in with me?"

She nodded and he stepped aside, indicating for her to lead. "Rick?" she said, remaining in place with a question in her eyes.

"Yeah," he replied, realizing he hadn't given her an answer. "I'll meet you at your place."

"Ok," she said, turning to lead the way back to the conference room to finish their meeting.

…

Rick was still agitated by his confrontation with Pete Anderson as he stood in the parking lot behind the Mayor's office with his phone in his hand. After the meeting ended, he had walked Michonne back to her office and asked Daryl to grab the cruiser to meet him there, giving him a few minutes to complete the task at hand. He tried to settle a bit first, pulling in long breaths of the fresh, cold air, but Pete's words and the possibility of an argument with Michonne that evening had his jaw set and his blood pumping fast. Resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to be extra vigilant against his temper, he flipped his phone over in his hands and dialed Lori's number.

She answered after two rings and her pleasant 'hello' already had his eyes narrowing.

"Hey," he replied, trying not to reveal his mood. He wanted to see if she was going to tell him about their plan for Carl's school first, or if he was going to have to explain how he knew. "Did Carl get off to school okay today?"

"He did," she answered tentatively. "That's an odd question."

"Yeah, well I know it's a long drive for you…" He let the statement hang for a moment, giving her an opening, but she only hummed her agreement. "Listen Lori," he said, done wasting time. "I talked to Carl this weekend. He called me."

"Oh," she responded. "I didn't know, but obviously that's fine, Rick. He can call anytime he wants, he knows that."

"He called while you were out on purpose," he divulged, wanting to make sure she understood he wasn't asking for her permission to take his call. "He wanted to talk to me 'bout somethin'...somethin' he heard from Philip." Rick was really efforting now. He wanted to spit at the sound of Philip's name coming from his mouth, but he summoned the strength to maintain his composure.

"Oh?" she asked. He couldn't tell if she knew what he was referring to yet, but he had given her enough chances to figure it out.

"He's not switchin' schools, Lori," he said firmly, calmly.

She was silent for a moment, taking in her ex-husband's determined tone. She figured Rick would fight her on this at first, but she knew her plan was for the best.

"Rick," she said finally, "Philip and I think that if he's going to be living here with us that he should get to know the kids in town... go to school with them."

"I don't give a damn what Philip thinks," Rick hissed, feeling his anger approaching a cliff. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shuffled his feet, physically stepping back from it. "To tell you the truth, Lori," he said, steadily, "I'm done caring what you think too. Carl is there because I allowed it, but that's over now. He's not going to be staying there anymore and he's damn well not going to be going to school there. When I pick him up Friday, he's coming back home for good."

His declaration threw her and she had to take a moment to assess his about-face. Her interactions with Rick since she left had been a roller coaster of hot headed anger and seething silence, but his words were measured now. He was in control again. "Rick," she said slowly, testing out his new resolve. "We talked about this. You allowed it because you knew I was right. Philip and I are offering a stable home for him."

"I allowed it because I didn't want to lose him. You going behind my back and making plans like this for him? Proves I'm in danger of that either way. He doesn't want to be there, Lori. Carl belongs with me. You left us both that day."

"Rick," she choked out, emotion seizing her without warning. "I know you know what it's like to make a can't tell me you don't understand that after everything that's happened with you." She took a deep breath to steady her voice. "He's still my son. He has a sister now."

Rick was no stranger to Lori's fickle emotions, but this time they only bolstered him, as he found himself falling easily back into their old roles. He used to be the rational one and he was going to reclaim that title. "He spent Christmas with you, Lori. I let that happen. I know he wants to see your daughter. Carl can decide how much time he spends with you, but if you fight me on this, Lori, if you try to get take custody of him, take me to court, drag me through the mud? I'll fight you every step of the way and you'll lose."

"I hardly think you're in a position to threaten me, Rick," she said listlessly. It was dawning on her that he wasn't as lost as she thought he was. She hadn't meant to take advantage of the place she put him, but she missed her son and she worried about both of them, whether she had a right to or not. She meant what she said, she wanted to give Rick time to get himself together, heal the wounds she had inflicted. And while he did that, she would have Carl again. She had counted on Rick's self sacrificing nature to make this easy, but he had found a new steadfastness. For the second time since things fell apart between them, she was surprised by him; first by his steep fall and now by his apparent resurrection.

"I'm not threatening you," he answered. "I'm tellin' you. My way is going to be easier. I'll see you Friday and I'll stop by the school today to let Carl know to have his things ready to come home."

He hung up the phone and let out a long breath that materialized before him in the cold air. A feeling of relief and weariness rushed over him. One battle was over and soon he would find out if it was going to be the only one, or the beginning of a war. He looked at his watch and considered all that the day had thrown at him before he had even had lunch. He returned to his phone again, pulling up Michonne's number. He was drained and he needed a fix. This evening might not go well between them; he steeled himself for that possibility, but he also knew she wouldn't deny him now. He started typing, already awaiting her response.

" _I talked to Lori. I don't know what's going to happen next, but for now Carl is coming home."_

Michonne sat at her desk, trying to focus on a stack of reports that Aaron had left her with after their meeting. Her eyes wouldn't focus on the statistics, though, and she found herself rolling a repeating path in her chair and anxiously fiddling with the chain around her neck. The morning had her on edge. Between the incident in Rick's car and Pete Anderson's boorish performance at their meeting, her nerves were firing in all directions.

She was jarred out of her thoughts by the loud vibration of her phone against the wood of her desk. She picked it up, eyeing Rick's name on the screen and promptly swiped her thumb to open the message. She felt her eyes tingle with emotion as she read it. Her previous mood was pushed aside by a rush of relief as she keyed her response.

" _That's all that matters, Rick. I love you."_

…

Rick had a knot in his stomach as he pulled into Michonne's driveway and put the car in park. After finishing up a long day of patrols and dropping his SUV off to get the bumper fixed, he had settled back into his cruiser, resigning himself to driving it around full time for a few days. Carl would have been ecstatic at the prospect of going to school in it if he was home, he chuckled to himself. Then he let out a long sigh and rubbed at his eyes, trying to assuage the burning sensation left there from a full day performed on less than adequate sleep. He reached over to the passenger seat, gathering a backpack he had thrown some extra clothes in, and a paper bag containing what he hoped would be a peace offering for his girlfriend, whom he feared he was about to have his first fight with.

Rick knocked on the door, running his thumb along his eyebrow, nervously. The door opened and Michonne stood before him looking vibrant. Her day had been just as trying, he knew, but there wasn't a single indication of it on her pretty face.

"I brought you somethin'," he decided to lead with. He handed her the bag and she took it, gifting him a full smile and loosening the ropes in his gut just a bit. She stepped aside to peer in the bag as he entered the living room and collapsed onto her couch.

"You know me so well," she purred, pulling out the softball sized, double chocolate cupcake perfectly displayed in a plastic dome. The dark brown frosting was piped in intricate little florets and tiny gold flecks glittered the top. The piece de' resistance, an edible scrolling letter 'M', was perched atop the frosting like a crown.

"Carol," he explained with a wave of his hand, unwilling to let her fawn over his gift when he knew it was an attempt on his part to soften her.

"It's almost too pretty to eat!" She sauntered into the kitchen, her hips swaying like a metronome counting a lullaby to his weary soul. "Almost." She grabbed a fork and a couple napkins, handing him one when she returned.

Rick shook his head, declining her offer to share, and stared at her as she broke a piece off with the fork, bringing it seductively to her mouth. He felt sleep luring him, tempting him to end the day here, with a smile on her face, but he wouldn't avoid her. His marriage may have been a failure, but the lessons hadn't been lost on him.

"I was hopin' we could talk," he said, unsure that the word hope was accurate. "I think...I know you want to talk about what Daryl and me did."

Michonne paused with a forkful of cake in her mouth, not rushing to swallow and speak. When she had finished savoring her bite she sighed and set the plastic container down on the coffee table. She turned to face him, pulling her knees underneath her and looking him up and down as he sprawled, half reclined, in the opposite corner.

She didn't speak for a few moments and the knot began to tighten again. He wanted nothing more than to hear her admonishment, apologize and lay his head in her lap so she could run her fingers through her hair until his eyes closed.

"Those guys," she finally spoke. "They know you...your car...maybe your face, your name?"

"I don't know exactly what they know," he admitted with a drawn out breath.

She nodded. She knew as much and that's what worried her.

"Look, I know we were walkin' a line but we got some good intel…"

He stopped his argument abruptly when she leaned over him and pulled his shirt from his waistband and proceeded to undo the buttons one by one. When she had his uniform open, she settled herself beside him, laying her head on his shoulder, and reached a hand underneath his t-shirt. Her nimble fingers slid along his skin until she found the scar on his upper chest, running her thumb across the raised skin.

"I know your job is dangerous, Rick, and I trust you to be careful, but trusting you is how I know this is scary. You told Deanna this was serious…"she said. She stopped caressing his old wound and pointed a finger gently at his chest. "You need to be serious. Carl's coming home and you have us. Now is not the time to be reckless."

Rick studied her face, bemused by her even tone. He was expecting her to be angry that he disobeyed Deanna, irritated that he hadn't told her about it before today, maybe even pissed at the way Pete had pushed some of the blame for his actions onto her, but he saw no indignation in her eyes, only fear. That was harder to answer for. He captured her hand and pulled it to his lips, brushing soft kisses against her knuckles.

"Michonne, you don't have to worry. At least not about me doin' something stupid. This wasn't like that...like before. I'm not there anymore."

"I know, Rick. I'm not accusing you of that...of anything. I know there are things you have to do because it's who you are. I'm just asking, selfishly, because I love you...please be careful."

He sighed, pulling her to his chest and wrapped her tightly in his arms, weighing how wrong he had been about her reaction. She didn't place any demands on him, didn't ask him to promise her anything he couldn't. She was just asking for consideration, for him to think of her when he was deciding on a course. Little did she know, she was in every decision he made.

"I promise, Michonne. I'm taking this seriously...and you, you're always on my mind. I didn't tell you because I didn't want it to affect you when the group found out, that's the only reason. I'm sorry that it ended up happening anyway."

"I'm not worried about what Pete said. I shouldn't have been worried about what Deanna thought either. I'm on your side because I know you, who you are. Not because I'm sleeping with the psycho cop." Michonne laughed as she watched his mouth drop open slightly, his eyebrows raised at her jab.

He slowly broke into a grin, reaching down to squeeze her fleshy hip in retaliation. "Pete's proved he's in no position to be slingin' accusations, but if he wants to see crazy he just needs to keep talkin' to you like that."

"Uh uh," she replied with a wag of her finger. "I'll handle Pete. You just make sure you keep your promise."

"Always," he answered, letting his grin fade into a contented sigh and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I thought you were gonna be pissed at me. I've been worried about it all day, thinking we were going to have our first argument."

"Is that why you brought me the cupcake?" she smirked knowingly, peeling herself away from him to resume her treat.

"Something like that," he admitted.

"Well, for future reference, this was a good plan," she said between bites. "And just so we're clear, our first argument was when you said my playlist on the car ride to the mountain on New Year's, was 'hurting your head'." She used her fingers to assign the quote to him before nudging him with her foot.

"You weren't really mad about that," he protested with an adorable frown.

"Oh, you're wrong, I am still mad about that." She pushed away from him and settled on the opposite side of the couch in a playful huff.

Rick saw this as his opportunity and reversed his position, stretching across the cushions to drop his head in her lap. "I'm sorry, then. I didn't know you were so sensitive."

She set the rest of her cake down again and took his head in her hands, like he knew she would, stroking and twisting his hair between her fingers. "I wouldn't be mad at you for doing what you thought was right, Rick. I know why you do the things you do, and even if I don't agree, I know your intentions are always good."

He nodded his head, turning slightly to press his lips to her upper thigh. He was constantly warring with himself over the decisions he had to make, but the unconditional trust she gave him was like a new armor. He closed his eyes, content to finally be here, letting her soothe his weary head. At least for tonight the battle was over.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Hi everyone! Chapter 26. Sorry this took a bit. I wanted to get a couple 4th of July one shots done, check them out if you haven't and let me know what you think. Glad to finally get back here, though. Thanks again for all your reviews. I love hearing your thoughts. Makes my day!

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Michonne couldn't help herself from pacing back and forth in Rick's living room. Evening was falling and the last pale light was filtering in through the pulled back curtains. The slow crawl of darkness only served as a physical reminder of the time that seemed to be creeping by. She stopped her ambling a few times, straightening the pillows on the couch, picking up Rick's uniform jacket from the back of a chair, and hanging it in the closet, but she kept finding herself back to the spot in front of the large bay window that looked out over the driveway.

Rick had asked her to come with him to pick up Carl, but she knew the two would need the car ride home to talk, or to convey their feelings with mutual silence as they sometimes did, so she had stayed back. Carl was happy to be coming home, but that didn't mean it would be an easy reunion. As anxious as she was to see him again, she was nervous for Rick; between Carl's reproach, and the place he was in at work, he was taking it from all sides.

Easy or not, she was practically giddy in anticipation of an evening spent with both of them. Rick had seen his son a couple of times since he had been gone, but she hadn't seen Carl in weeks. Now she was counting the minutes until they would both be here.

Leaning against the windowsill and holding the curtain back to peer like a child on Christmas Eve, she took a moment to muse over how she got to this place. Her eagerness surprised her. Michonne had always been cautious with her heart, guarded. Some people, including Andrea, even called her cold. She had learned to be in her profession, as a woman working in a man's world and as someone whose job revolved around the bad things people did to each other. The last lesson she had learned in her former life had put the final touches on her worldview: other people have no power over you unless you give it to them by bringing them too close. If she was cold, though, Rick and his son had her melting in a puddle on the floor.

She had been taken with Carl immediately. Who wouldn't be? He was mature, sweet, and oh, so charming. Besides, kids were easy; you always knew what they really wanted from you. This thing with Rick had been more of a surprise. Rick had a way of disarming her, proving that letting him take care of her didn't take away her sovereignty. She saw it from the very beginning, when they ran into each other at the hardware store. It was a simple thing, but he had seen a vulnerability in her, a need, and instead of calling it out, or using it somehow, he quietly filled it and then offered her one of his own. He respected her strength, drew his own from it. He never tried to diminish it to make himself feel good, like so many men tended to do.

That quiet support, the mutual passing back and forth of trust, had led them here. She was the light to his dark and he was the key to all of her locked doors. When she looked into the ocean of his eyes, she was flooded with the desire to open to him. The way he kept his emotions so close to the surface, always within reach, made her want to touch them with her own, to feel the way he felt: so fully, so dangerously. He showed her what it was like to be touched without the wall and by his bravery, had showed her she could do it too. She began to give him more and more of herself until her heart was fully exposed and she was completely unafraid.

She glanced at the clock on his living room wall. It would probably be at least another half an hour before they returned, if all had gone well with Lori and Philip. She had to pass the time some way other than wearing a hole in Rick's floors, so she went to his kitchen to take inventory of the supplies he had on hand to make dinner. Unfortunately, her hopeful task was short lived, as his refrigerator contained little more than leftover chicken from the last time they had stayed there, and a few beers. She tossed the chicken in the garbage and contemplated the beers, before deciding she'd rather grab some wine if they were going to have to make a trip to the store anyway. With a defeated sigh, she decided to return to the living room and wait on the couch. She settled in, placing one of the pillows she had just fluffed behind her head, and reluctantly flipped through a sports magazine Rick had on his coffee table.

Just as she was getting restless again she heard the sound of an engine outside and the crunching of gravel in Rick's driveway. She jumped up, excited for a moment, until she realized the motor was far too loud to be Rick's SUV. Walking to the door to see outside, she spotted Daryl popping the kickstand on his bike and taking off his helmet. He eyed Michonne's car as he made his way to the door just as she opened it.

"Hey," he greeted. "Rick ain't here?"

"He went to pick up Carl," she said, stepping aside to let him in.

Daryl immediately made himself at home, heading straight for Rick's kitchen to grab a bottle of water from his fridge. "He's comin' home for good, right?"

"That's the plan," Michonne said as she reclaimed her seat on the couch, happy to have the distraction.

Daryl nodded, taking the chair across from her. "You worried about him?" he asked, noting her answer was less than confident.

"Not about this," she said, shaking her head. "He's ready for whatever comes."

"'Bout something else?"

She eyed him for a beat before answering. She hadn't meant to steer the conversation in this direction, but she assumed Daryl was here to talk shop with Rick and she knew her face was betraying where her mind had wandered. "How's the case going?" she finally asked, letting him know what was on her mind without saying it.

"Same. Fighting with both hands tied behind our back cause of Monroe." A flash of irritation crossed Daryl's face at the mention of her boss. "Rick in the doghouse for the other day?"

"I'm actually not a fan of dogs," she replied with a small laugh, brushing off his insinuation. "I prefer cats."

Daryl nodded again, happy to hear he hadn't gotten his friend in trouble, but deciding to change the subject. "So, what's for dinner?" he smirked. "It ain't grilling weather, so you must be feeding these guys or they'd starve."

She laughed at his not so far off observation. "Does that mean you're staying?"

"Nah, I'm kidding. I really just came by to tell Rick I got another tip today after he left."

Michonne quirked an eyebrow at him expectantly, wondering if he was going to divulge the information to her. He seemed to be considering the question himself, as he was quiet for a few moments before deciding to proceed.

"One of the kids who overdosed couple weeks ago, he's been in the hospital. His parents are some big wigs over there, probably friends of Anderson's," he sneered. "Anyway, looks like the good doctors convinced him to talk. We're meeting with him Monday when he's recovered some more."

"He has details on the dealers?"

"Says he's got names all the way to the top."

Michonne sat up, pushing herself to the edge of the couch cushion. "So he gives you a name, then what?" She was counting on Daryl to be honest with her, not because she didn't trust Rick to, but because Daryl had no reason to sugar coat.

"He gives us a name, we try to match it to the guy we laid eyes on. Maybe he can confirm the location we were at. If it checks out, we get a warrant. Unless Deanna wants to run it by Pete and Denise first," he snickered.

She gave him an unimpressed look, but continued. "So, you just execute the warrant and go get them?"

"They ain't gonna just invite us in for tea once they see the paper, but yeah, we go get 'em." He got up and crossed the room, glancing out the window one more time for his partner. "I gotta head out. Tell Rick I stopped by, would ya?"

"I will."

"'Chonne," he said, watching her look past him. "This is the break we need. Rick knows what he's doing. You ain't gotta worry."

"I'm not worried," she lied. She trusted Rick fully when he was sure about something, because he was always willing to admit when he wasn't, but in his world, being right didn't mean being safe. "I just want it over."

He gave her a silent nod then showed himself out. She mulled his words once he had left, allowing herself to feel some relief at a possible end to this threat. She liked the work she was doing with the task force, particularly working with Rick and seeing the skill and competence he displayed in his position, but the risks of the situation were hitting too close to home. She wanted nothing more than for this mess to be over soon. Carl was coming home and maybe, just maybe, this would signal the start of life getting back to normal.

After another fifteen, seemingly endless minutes, she finally heard what could only be Rick's vehicle roll onto the gravel driveway and come to a stop. She gathered to her feet, walking to the space in front of the door. She braced herself for the tension but was still unable to keep herself from grinning in anticipation.

The door opened and Carl walked in first, his obvious mood and the large bag he had slung over his shoulder, both weighing down his posture. As soon as he crossed the threshold though, he caught sight of Michonne and a huge smile spread across his face.

"Michonne!" he yelled, dropping his duffel and charging toward her. His arms wrapped around her waist and she took a few steps back to keep from losing her balance as she hugged him back.

Rick came through the door after him, dropping a few of Carl's bags and looking worn. He strode towards them, placing a quick peck on Michonne's lips as she held onto Carl. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around both of them and join their embrace, but the car ride home told him Carl wouldn't appreciate his interference, so he continued on silently to the kitchen.

Michonne followed Rick with her gaze, then pulled away just enough to look at Carl. "I missed you, kid!" she said, smoothing his hair out of his eyes, affectionately.

"I missed you too!" He glanced at his father who was busying himself in the next room, and let her go. "I'm glad you're here."

"I couldn't wait until tomorrow to see you. I told your dad I would make you two dinner. Whatever you want."

"Awesome!" he replied, plopping down on the couch and kicking off his shoes.

Rick made his way back to the room, coming to stand next to Michonne. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking nervous, as if he was interrupting something he shouldn't. "What did you two decide on for dinner?" he asked, glancing between them.

"Michonne, can you make that spicy noodle thing you made on New Year's?" Carl asked.

"That was Andrea's recipe, but I'm sure she can text it to me," she replied, before turning to Rick. "Give me a minute and I'll make a list of ingredients." She took off to find her phone and get the information, leaving the two alone.

Rick sat down next to his son on the couch. "What do you think you want to do after we eat?" Rick asked, trying to engage the boy in some pleasant conversation.

Carl shrugged, avoiding Rick's attempts at eye contact. "Is Michonne staying? Maybe we can play some video games."

Rick nodded. "She is," he confirmed. "That sounds fine." He knew his son was intentionally choosing an activity that the two usually enjoyed without him, but he was just glad he responded at all.

The discomfort of the ride home had been only slightly less than the interaction with Lori and Philip when he arrived to pick Carl up. Lori had turned on the tears, of course, while Philip scowled at him as if they didn't all know exactly how they had arrived in this situation. Rick did his best to channel Michonne's steady composure as he stood out of the way, watching Philip embrace his son, as if he had earned the right after a couple weeks of living under the same roof.

Once they were on the road home, he was disheartened to see his own propensity for withdrawal embodied in his son, as Carl rode silently beside him with narrowed eyes. Carl wasn't prone to off the cuff comments like his mother, he was deliberate, like him. He would keep himself in check until the right moment when he had figured out exactly how he felt, then he would unveil his thoughts, calmly and without emotion. Rick was just waiting for the moment when it was his turn to be on the other end of that tactic.

"OK, I've got a shopping list," Michonne announced as she rejoined them. She handed a piece of paper to Rick, smiling widely to try to diffuse the air between them.

Rick stood, reading over the list before he turned back to Carl. "You wanna come with me?" he ventured, bracing himself for the rejection.

Carl shook his head. "I'll stay here."

Rick nodded slowly. "Alright then." He turned to Michonne, wrapping an arm around her waist as he placed a parting kiss on her cheek. "I won't be long."

She reached a hand up to run her fingers over his jaw, meeting his eyes with a sympathetic smile. She gave him one more kiss on the lips before releasing him and watching him walk out the door.

Once she heard Rick's car pull away she took the seat next to Carl, reclining comfortably against the back of the couch and eyeing his weighted posture. "Why didn't you go with your dad?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the side of his downturned face.

"I don't know," he shrugged, finally looking up at her with a tentative gaze.

She let out a long sigh before continuing. "Carl, I think you're being too hard on him."

A flash of irritation ran across Carl's face and he squared his shoulders toward her. "I think you're being too easy on him. You said he was was going to win his battles, but you were wrong," he said, remembering her words to him in his bunk after his mother had called on New Year's. "You said it was because he was showing up everyday, but he didn't show up this time. He just gave up."

"He never gave up on you, Carl," she said softly, taken aback at being on the receiving end of his ire.

"I know he and my mom shouldn't be together," he said, backtracking to a more calculated tone. "They're both better off, but he just let that asshole walk in and take her and he didn't do anything about it. Then he just let him take me. You said he was doing a better job at things than you, but you wouldn't have let them take me. I know you wouldn't, because you're strong and he's weak."

"You're wrong, Carl," she said, her voice firm, but without judgement. He had a right to feel this way, but he needed to see there were things he didn't understand. "What your father did? He did it because he thought it was the best way to keep you with him in the long run. Letting them threaten him, tell him he wasn't good for you, letting them say those things while still keeping control? That wasn't weakness. It took everything. Weakness is lashing out, not thinking past the moment you're in. He doesn't want to do that anymore. That's not who he is."

Carl dropped his eyes to the ground again, unable to maintain the challenging stare he was attempting with her. He suddenly felt tears welling up against his will. She wasn't admonishing him as an adult would a child, but leveling with him, friend to friend, and that made her words harder to hear. "It felt like he just took the easy way out," he choked. "He let me go so he didn't have to fight with her anymore."

"Letting you go there wasn't the easy way, Carl," she said, allowing her voice to drop to a soothing whisper. "Your dad has been lost since you've been gone. It's been just as hard on him as it was on you. It's only going to get harder for him if they decide to fight him on this, but he's ready for it now." She took a deep breath, dipping her head to make sure she could see his eyes as she spoke. "Trust your father. He deserves that."

His tears broke free now, winding a warm path down his cheeks as he looked back at her. "I'm supposed to stay with him. I knew that when she left us," he said, straining to keep his voice from breaking. "I missed her, I wanted to see her, but I'm supposed to be here with my dad. It seemed like I was finally getting him back, you know? And then he sent me away."

"I know, sweetie," she whispered, reaching for him and pulling him close. "You're both here now."

Carl settled his face against her shoulder, relishing in the comfort she gave after weeks of being at odds with both of his parents. He didn't want to cry, he wanted to be strong, but it felt good to be held. He let his tears flow freely, his anger fading with each relieving sob. When he had composed himself, he sat up, wiping away any remnants of the pain on his face. He nodded, resolutely, the way his father frequently did, and stood. "I'm going to put my stuff back in my room," he announced. "I'll be down soon."

She smiled in agreement and watched as he hoisted his bags and climbed the stairs. When he was out of sight, she let out a long breath, pressing her fingers to her eyes to stop the swell of her own tears. She was glad for whatever part she could play in getting her two boys back on the same page. They were going to need each other to get through whatever happened from here.

…

"I think that may have been a little spicier than last time," Rick said as he collected their empty plates from the table while sucking little puffs of air through his mouth to cool his tongue.

"Don't be a wuss, Grimes," Michonne chided, leaning back in her seat, fully satiated from the carbohydrate laden meal.

"Seriously, Dad," Carl joined. "It wasn't _that_ hot."

Rick grinned at their teasing. The two of them ganging up on him felt almost normal. Carl had been much more talkative after he returned home from the store. He even laughed a few times while they attempted to help Michonne with the meal.

"I guess you won't be needing any of this then," Rick shrugged, pulling a quart of chocolate chip, cookie dough ice cream out of the freezer and walking it to the counter.

"You can bring that right over here," Michonne ordered.

"I was gonna put it in a bowl first, Michonne."

"Get yourself a bowl and bring the rest over here."

Rick shook his head with a smile, grabbing two spoons and sticking them in the top of the ice cream. He dropped the container on the table in between Carl and Michonne and gestured with an open palm for them to dig in.

"Seriously?" Carl asked, quirking an eyebrow at his dad.

"I'm not arguin' with her after she just cooked us dinner."

"Good thinking," Carl laughed, grabbing his spoon and scooping a large portion into his mouth.

"So what's this video game we're playin' tonight?" Rick asked, settling back into his seat at the table.

Carl finished his spoonful and looked between Michonne and Rick, suddenly feeling differently about how he wanted to spend the evening. "Maybe we could play something else," he said.

"What were you thinking?"

"How about we school Michonne in some poker?" he offered, remembering the many evenings they had spent playing cards while Rick was recovering from his gunshot. It had been a while but he was sure he remembered everything his dad had taught him.

"Excuse me," Michonne said with a spoon still in her mouth. "What makes you think I don't know how to play poker?"

Rick smiled at the idea, happy that Carl had made the suggestion and looking forward to finding out how much trash Michonne was going to talk before he beat them both handily. "I'll get the cards."

…

"You're cheatin'," Rick accused as Michonne laid four queens on the table. "There is no way one person is this lucky."

"I didn't peg you for a sore loser, Rick." She gave him a saccharine smile as she reached for the chips in the center of the table, needing both hands to scoop them up.

"She's right, Dad. She beat you fair and square." Carl had folded his hand what seemed like an eternity ago and was amusedly watching the two square off, both confident the round was in the bag.

"So what do I get when I cash in all of these chips?" she asked, setting her winnings into neat little stacks.

Carl and Rick shared a look, neither one wanting to break it to her that the chips were the only prize when they played. Rick would never let them play for money, explaining that he wasn't about to pay himself with Carl's allowance just so he could beg for more. Sometimes they played for pretzels or candy or some other edible currency, but usually it was just bragging rights.

"I think you're actually already in the hole at this establishment," Rick finally said. "This should just cover your ice cream tab." He gestured to the container that she and Carl had emptied during the first few hands.

Michonne looked aghast. "Now who's _cheatin_ '" she charged, imitating his accent.

"Sorry," Rick shrugged, swallowing a laugh. "Tough break." He pat her knee, mockingly before settling his hand on her thigh, his thumb slowly moving back and forth.

"You're telling me you have no intention of paying your debts, Grimes?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him while he glanced at his son for confirmation.

Carl chuckled at her. "Sorry, Michonne. House rules."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Whose side are you on, Carl?" she asked, keeping her eyes on Rick.

Carl watched the two challenge each other with their eyes, his father's mouth slowly spreading into a grin that he didn't recognize. Their stares were slowly turning into something else he wasn't sure he understood, and he took it as his cue to head to bed.

"I'm out," he declared, gathering the cards he had discarded and putting them back in the box. "I'm exhausted."

Rick finally pulled his eyes away from Michonne to look up at his son. "I'll walk you up," he offered, standing from the table.

"Dad, I don't need to be tucked in." Carl was contorting his face as if the idea was humiliating.

"Right," Rick replied. "Sorry. Goodnight, son." He placed his hand tentatively on Carl's shoulder, not wanting to assume anything, despite the pleasant way the night had been unfolding.

Carl settled under his arm, wrapping his own around his father's waist as Rick's hand moved to to the back of his head, clutching his son against him. "Goodnight, dad," he said into Rick's shirt, before quickly letting him go and turning to Michonne. "Goodnight, Michonne," he smiled, taking off for the stairs.

After clearing the table and refilling the beverages they had been sipping on during the game, Rick and Michonne settled onto the couch, enjoying the way the house felt lighter with Carl back.

"Thank you," Rick said as he pressed a kiss to Michonne's forehead. She was nestled under his arm with a glass of wine, her legs crossed and draped over his lap.

"For what? Beating you at poker in front of your child?" She was at least going to get some gloating in if that was all she earned.

"Alright," he sighed, sliding his hand down her arm and poking her side playfully. "I meant for whatever you said to him while I was gone."

She nodded against his chest, lacing their fingers. "He just needed to talk a few things out."

It was Rick's turn to nod. "Well, thanks for letting him. He wasn't going to talk to me."

"You're welcome," she said, tipping her head to meet his eyes. "I'm always on your side, Rick."

"I know. I'm still getting used to how that feels." He picked her hand up and brought it to his lips. "You're amazing," he said, while working his way up her arm. "Beautiful...funny...smart."

She giggled, pulling her arm back and wrapping it around him. "Alright, alright. You already know I'm sleeping over. No need to butter me up."

He wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her with him as he stood and pulling her to him. "Let's get to bed then. I think I still have a debt to pay."


	27. Chapter 27

A/N Thanks so much for your end of this story is within sight, only a few more chapters to go in my outline (First for me to start using an outline but I wanted to do this one right.) Thanks for all those who are still with me. Your feedback has meant so much. xoxox

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"This is awesome," Carl exclaimed, climbing into the back of the cruiser and sliding along the worn leather seat. "I hope they take a long time to fix your bumper."

"Don't count on it," Rick replied. "It's supposed to be done tomorrow. Do you have all your stuff for your grandmother's?" He peered back at Carl through the cage divide between them, grinning as he watched the boy inspect the inside.

"I got it all. Who's the worst criminal you've ever had back here?"

"Probably Merle," Rick quipped, hoping the mention of Daryl's older brother would put a quick end to any glorified crime stories Carl was conjuring in his head.

Carl wrinkled his nose at the thought of sharing the seat with Merle and went back to buckling himself in.

"You'll be at your grandmother's tonight and I'll come pick you up there tomorrow afternoon. We can stay for dinner," Rick said, reciting the schedule for the next couple days as he started the car to bring Carl to school. "I made sure I had early shifts for the next few days after that, so you could be home."

Carl nodded his agreement. "Is Michonne coming with you when you pick me up?"

"I can ask her if she wants to join us," Rick replied, eyeing his son in the rearview mirror. "Would you like that?" Rick knew that with Carl home, Michonne wouldn't be sleeping in his bed every night anymore. He was starting to get used to the habit and, if it was ok with Carl, he was going to get as much of it as he could.

"Yeah, I would like it."

"I'm sure grandma would, too. I'll invite her."

"Good," Carl agreed. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I like having Michonne around. She's good for you."

"You think so, huh?" Rick smirked. He glanced at Carl again, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

"I do," Carl affirmed. It made him happy to see the support Michonne gave his dad, even if it was him she was defending him against. His mother had turned her back on his dad when he needed her the most, even as a kid he could see that. In Michonne, he finally had an ally and his dad deserved that. He met his father's eyes in the mirror and gave him a smile. "I think she's one of us, Dad."

Rick couldn't help but smile at his son's proclamation. "I do too, son."

…

"How's the old girl treatin' ya?" Daryl asked, patting an open palm along the dashboard of the cruiser as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"I'm ready for her to be relegated back to work days only. I miss my satellite radio," Rick lamented as he fooled with the FM receiver trying to get rid of the static.

"Man, I can't believe you pay for that shit just to get that Highway Country station."

"Hey, that subscription's the only reason we got the Hawks game the other night while we were defying the Mayor's orders."

"Yeah. We'll see what they say once this kid gives us what we need."

"Let's hope. You think this is legit?" Rick steered the car out of the municipal district and down the few blocks to the hospital campus on the other side of town. "This kid claims he's got info at the top, right? How'd he get so close?"

"He was running shit for these guys, till he took it too far and ended up in a pool of his own puke, with Sasha and Abe bringing him back to life." Daryl shook his head, his empathy waning. "Damn, rich kids always lookin' for a thrill, till shit gets real."

"At least we finally found someone who isn't afraid to talk," Rick surmised, as he pulled into the large parking lot that serviced the hospital and medical office buildings surrounding it. They parked and exited the cruiser, both pulling their jackets shut against the cold winter air, and made their way through the front entrance.

The Recovery Unit was on the fifth floor, so they grabbed the elevator on the way up. Once they exited, they passed the nurses station, garnering a few stares as they marched down the hall to the kid's room. Rick knocked lightly on the slightly ajar door and they were greeted by the kid's mother and father who were anxiously awaiting their arrival.

"Come in, Deputies," the man greeted. "I'm Dr. Wilkes, head of the E.R. Department here. That's my wife, Dr. Mary Wilkes, and this is our son, Noah." He gestured around the room and everyone shook hands and said their hellos. "Noah, these officers are here to listen to what you have to say," he said, walking to his son's side and taking a seat on the edge of his hospital bed.

Noah couldn't have been more than twnety years old, a skinny kid with dark skin and big eyes who looked absolutely terrified at the prospect of talking to them. Rick could see that their presence was making him nervous and, unwilling to let him lose his resolve, he decided he should do the talking instead of Daryl.

"Noah," he started. "We're just lookin' for some information. Whatever you can give us. There's a lot of other kids out there in your position who don't have the luxury of a safe home to go back to once this is all over. If you know what you say you know, you can help us take these guys down."

Noah settled a bit, his shoulders relaxing as Rick spoke, but he kept stealing glances at Daryl who was leaned against the wardrobe, staring the kid down through his long hair. Rick decided to reposition himself at the foot of his bed, obstructing Noah's view of his surly partner.

"I'll tell you what I know," Noah spoke, once Rick occupied his whole view. "I just want to be done with that world."

Rick nodded, glancing back at Daryl who was fishing out a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket. "Let's start with location. Can you tell us where these guys are set up? Their...homebase, so to speak?"

Noah looked at his mother who had been silent thus far, then back at Rick. "They've got a house down on Maple. I don't know whose place it is, but they're in and out of it all day and night. That's where you'll find their supply...and the guns."

Rick exchanged another look with his partner who was nodding at Noah's confirmation of the house they were watching. "They've got some firepower?" he asked, turning back to the kid.

"They keep their stuff well guarded and their people are always protected."

Daryl scribbled his notes while Noah's mother stood from her seat and began pacing the small space between his bed and the window.

"Aright," Rick continued. "How about some names?"

Noah's eyes darted between his parents, looking for confirmation that he should continue. He knew this was the key piece they needed and it would seal his fate if it didn't lead to an arrest. You didn't get away with talking to the cops when you were dealing with these types of guys. His father gave him a resolute nod and Noah cleared his throat, preparing to give them what they wanted.

"The guy that took over, the one who runs the show...he's a young guy, clean cut. Doesn't look like he uses, at least not the same stuff he's running. His name is Gareth. He's the one in charge. He brought in the other guys with him from outta town. He told me where I was running stuff and who to collect from. If they didn't pay, he sent his guys out to handle it, but he was the top. If you get to him the whole thing goes down."

"Gareth," Rick repeated, thinking the name sounded fitting for the preppy looking man they had come into contact with. "Would you be willing to talk to a sketch artist? Give us a visual to go on?" He knew they had their man, but he wanted to be thorough.

"I can do that," Noah confirmed.

"Alright then. Noah, you've been very helpful. You're doing the right thing."

"That will depend on your department, Deputy," his father chimed in, as he stood to face Rick. "It's up to you to make sure you get these guys before they get word of this conversation. We're counting on you."

"Yes, sir," Rick replied. "This is the last piece we needed. We'll get them."

Rick reached over to shake Noah's hand one more time and the adults shook their goodbyes.

Both men were silent on the walk back to the parking lot, not speaking until Rick was behind the wheel and they were strapped in.

"That's our guy," Daryl finally said.

Rick nodded. "Let's go get a warrant."

…

Daryl led the way through the front doors to the station as Rick hung back, pacing in front of the front desk. He was finishing his phone call to Andrea regarding the first steps in obtaining their warrant, giving her the details that Noah had just shared. When he followed his partner toward their desks, he spotted Michonne sitting in his chair, chatting across his desk with Shane. He hung up the phone, after saying goodbye to their friend, and tried to read her expression. He could tell she wasn't there for a social call as she was wearing her professional demeanor, but, more than that, she seemed nervous.

"Hey," he greeted as he took a seat on his desk beside her. "What are you doing here?"

She looked up at him with a smile that eased him slightly, but her eyes still looked wary. "Deanna and I were having our weekly meeting with the sheriff, but she asked to speak to him privately before we left. I'm just waiting for her."

"What's the private meeting about?" Daryl asked, coming to stand beside them.

"I don't know..because it's private," she said, trying to lighten the mood with a teasing tone.

"But you think you know," he replied, giving her his signature stare down.

She looked back at Rick before answering. "I think it's probably about you if I wasn't invited."

Rick let out a scoff. He wasn't worried about Deanna right now, with Noah's information she couldn't get in the way. He was even willing to admit they had done exactly as she had predicted and secured their lead with good old fashioned police work. Of course, a couple of overdoses and one mugging could have been avoided if they had tracked them down sooner, and they wouldn't be able to confirm anything without the surveillance they did off hours, but Deanna could figure that out on her own.

He didn't have to wait any longer to hear her thoughts on the matter, though. As soon as Michonne had spoken, Deanna came sauntering out of the meeting room looking for her.

"Michonne, I'm almost ready, I just need to speak to Grimes and Dixon first." Her eyes fell to Rick, as Michonne nodded her agreement but made no moves to exit.

"What can we do for you, Mayor," Daryl asked, summoning his most professional tone.

"Boys," she said, her gaze passing upwards from her tiny stature and bouncing between the two. "I was just discussing your case with Sheriff Dion."

"'Bout to have more to discuss," Rick offered. "We're getting a search warrant right now. One of their former guys gave up a location and a name."

Deanna didn't join in their enthusiasm, keeping her face firm. "Is this the location you held an unauthorized stake out in front of?"

"We were in the neighborhood. Got lucky," Daryl answered. He took a seat at his desk, leaning back casually, obviously unaffected by her.

"Do you feel lucky as well, Deputy Grimes? I heard about the incident with your car."

"That was unfortunate," he replied, turning his attention to some files on his desk as she continued to glare at them.

"Did you two forget what I said to you about how I wanted this handled?" she asked, obviously irritated at the lack of remorse she was getting.

"I remember you tellin' us you weren't sure our intel was good," Rick said, bringing his eyes back to her and taking a step closer. "That you thought I was on a revenge mission,"

"And you think your behavior here disputes that?" she demanded, her hands on her hips in a dominant stance, despite having to tilt her head up to look him in the eye.

"I'd say the incident as a whole proves the threat is real," he replied, tipping his head to the side and matching her posture.

Michonne watched the two square off silently, Rick returning Deanna's rigid stare. She was debating whether or not she should step in, knowing Rick could handle the woman, but also feeling like her silence could come across as admonishment since she had been in the car with him when this played out. She wasn't sure if Deanna was aware of that detail, though.

Rick, however, wasn't fighting any inclination to refrain. "You made it clear you couldn't fund surveillance, or raids, or extra man hours; this didn't cost you a thing. We didn't do anything wrong and you know it, or Dion would be writing us up."

Deanna continued to scowl at him. She did know that, but she still felt her authority was being questioned and it wasn't sitting well with her. "Get your warrant and end this Rick. I'm done playing games with you two." She turned to Michonne who was anxiously clutching a binder to her chest as she watched, and gestured for her to follow her out.

Michonne slipped Rick one more look before heading toward the door. When they hit the sidewalk the cold air whipped around her face, taking her thoughts briefly away from the encounter she had just watched. Deanna walked purposefully toward their office with Michonne picking up her step to keep up. When they reached the front of the building, Deanna suddenly stopped, turning to face Michonne, her shoulders visibly softening. The brisk walk had cooled the fire that had been burning in her eyes and she allowed herself to smile at her counsel.

"Michonne, I know you and Rick have a personal relationship," she started. Though her expression was warm, the statement still had Michonne shifting uneasily in anticipation of where she was headed. Deanna recognized her discomfort and reached out to touch the younger woman's elbow reassuringly, before continuing. "It's fine. In fact, it's none of my business. You're not breaking any rules." She let her hand fall from Michonne and she settled it on her hip again, smiling. "I just want you to understand something. Sheriff Dion is a few years older than me," she smirked, knowing she was being generous. The white haired man had at least a decade on her. "And I plan on winning a few more reelection campaigns before I hang up my hat, which means when Dion retires, I'll be working with whomever replaces him."

"I understand," Michonne replied, seeing where she was headed, but not understanding why she was divulging this to her now.

"I meant what I said last December. Grimes is the obvious choice to replace him. He's been working toward it his whole career...until recently. I'm not telling you this because I want anything from you when it comes to he and I. I just want you to understand that you don't have to choose between your loyalty to me and your loyalty to him. They're one in the same. He's a leader. He knows how to protect this town and I want to work with him, but he needs to get back to the place he was before, when he knew how to play by the rules. That's why I'm so hard on him."

"You can trust him, Deanna. He's not going to go too far. I didn't know him before, but I can tell you everything he does now he does for the right reasons."

Deanna nodded, glad to hear the assurance as she gathered Michonne knew better than she did where Rick's head was. "He's a good man," she said, continuing the way inside. "And very handsome. You two look good together." Deanna glanced over her shoulder with a smile and Michonne couldn't help but smile back.

…

"That's it," Daryl said hanging up his desk phone and speaking to Rick. "We'll have our search warrant in twenty-four hours."

"Twenty-four hours," Rick repeated with a nod. "We'll meet first thing in the morning to set up teams and draw up a plan."

"This could go down easy or it could go down hard," Daryl said. "Depending on how many of 'em are there when we show up."

"Gareth is our main priority and it sounds like he doesn't get his hands dirty very often. He'll be there."

"Let's hope so. We can end this tomorrow, get back to stopping speeders on the outskirts again."

Rick chuckled. "I could go for an easy traffic stop right about now."

"Out by five, down at Morgan's by six. Good ole days, man."

"Soon," Rick said

…

Rick jumped up when he saw the headlights shine through his window and pass across the wall in front of him. He had just finished a shower, washing away the stress of his day, and was making himself comfortable on the couch, waiting for Michonne. He opened the door, watching as she gathered her things from her car and stepped out. She looked as if she came ready for bed, in a pair of yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt and he couldn't help but smile at her loungewear. He liked the tight skirts she wore during the day, they made an appearance in many of his fantasies when she wasn't around. The thin tank tops and shorts she swayed around in when he was at her house were also hard to beat. She always looked gorgeous dressed up for a night on the town, or just drinks at Morgan's, but this looked like an outfit for a night spent relaxing at home, doing nothing but talking about each other's days and flipping through the channels on the television. He liked the thought of spending nights like that together, in his home. He liked the idea of being lazy with her on the couch, with nowhere to go. He could get used to coming home to that.

"I'm glad you came," Rick said as he wrapped his arms around her in greeting. "I know it's late."

"I don't mind," Michonne smiled. "I'm kinda used to sleeping in your bed now." She looked up at him with a sweet smile and he started to rethink how lazy the night was going to be. He let his hands fall to her backside, while he tried to decide.

"What are you watching?" she asked, pulling away and making the decision for him. She gestured to the TV that he had just turned on.

"Nothin'," he answered, leading them over to the couch and pulling her down beside him. He reached for the remote control, tossing it into her lap. "Your choice."

"Cause you're going to fall asleep either way?" she joked. She took the remote and a couch pillow and slid down until her head was settled in his lap.

"Maybe, but looks like you won't be far behind me," he laughed.

"You asked me to come over at ten o'clock on a weeknight. It's already past my bedtime."

He let his hand fall to her hip, stroking tiny circles on her skin where her sweatshirt had pulled away from her pants. "Relax then," he said, as he watched her change the channel. He wanted her to fall asleep like that, in his lap, the way she had done the first night he kissed her. Tomorrow was a big day. Like Daryl had said, it could go easy or it could go hard. He knew he wasn't going to get much sleep himself, but he wanted her there. He wanted to watch her drift off in his arms and wanted to wake up with her beside him. To kiss her before he left in the morning. He knew it was late. It was a selfish request, but he also knew she wouldn't deny him.

"We got our warrant," he said, figuring he should let her know where his thoughts were bound to drift off to.

She stopped her search for something to watch and turned in his lap to look up at him. "When do you go?"

"Tomorrow."

Michonne nodded, suddenly understanding why he had wanted her to stay tonight. "How do you think it's going to go?"

"No way to tell," he said with a small shrug. "We're rolling up on something big. If this kid knows what he's talking about, then it's well defended. And if Joe is any indication, they don't seem to care much about a badge."

Michonne took a deep breath, knowing he was right. They sat silently for a moment, him going over the plan in his head and her reassuring herself of his training and competence.

"Speaking of tomorrow," he finally said. "You wanna come to dinner with us at my mother's when I go to pick up Carl? Invitation is from him actually."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, he's pretty smitten with you, don't know if you've noticed," he chuckled, bringing his hand up to caress her cheek. "He said you were good for me...and that you were one of us."

She smiled softly, feeling her heart swell. "How can I say 'no' to that? I'd love to."

"Good," he said, patting her arm and smiling back. "Now pick somethin'. I'm getting tired."


	28. Chapter 28

"What are you doing?" Michonne asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and turning to see Rick sitting against the headboard, watching her. The sun was barely up but he looked as though he had been there awhile.

"Go back to sleep," he whispered. "It's early."

She rolled over so she was facing him and ran a hand along his arm. "You can't sleep?"

"I was just preparin' for the day," he said. "You don't need to be up yet. I'll wake you up when I'm out of the shower."

"No," she said, pulling him back as he moved to get up. "Five more minutes."

He smiled, settling back down at her side. He ran his hand up and down her arm as he leaned in to press his mouth to hers. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she answered, returning his kiss. "Big day."

"Yeah," he said, letting his inflection drag. "Let's hope."

"And dinner tonight with your mom and Carl, right?"

"Right. I should be out by…"

She reached up to press her finger to his lips, stopping him. "Don't give me the details now. Call me after you've got your guys and you're safe back at the station. You can tell me then."

"Ok," he agreed, pursing his lips beneath her fingers. "I'll call you as soon as I can."

He pulled himself up to sitting and let his eyes wander her dark skin wrapped in the white sheets of his bed, her locs hanging in her pretty face as she whispered her confidence in him. He felt as if he was still asleep, dreaming her up. He would get this done today, then be back beside her that evening, sitting down to dinner with his family. If he was lucky he'd convince her to stay again and he'd wake up the same way tomorrow. "I'm gonna go take a shower," he said, reluctantly. "Before we turn running early into running late."

"Alright," she smiled, rolling onto her stomach and kicking one leg out from under the sheets. "Wake me when you're done."

They had started to settle into a comfortable routine whenever she stayed the night. They would take turns showering, or share one, if Carl wasn't home and they found reasons to stay in bed a little longer. Then they'd dress beside each other in his large, sunny master bedroom. She enjoyed dressing for work there, now that she had some things tucked away in a drawer instead of working out of an overnight bag. Prepping for the day in his ensuite bathroom and having use of his standing, full length mirror, seemed luxurious compared to working back and forth between her cramped closet and her bathroom down the hall, the way she did at home.

Rick usually attempted to convince her that they had more time than they actually did, distracting her through each step of her routine, but that was half the fun. The fact that he hadn't attempted to make them late today made her think the seriousness of the day's task had to be weighing on him. It was weighing on her.

Neither one of them were particularly drawn to large meals in the morning, when they didn't have an always starving ten year old to feed so after they readied for their day, they shared a bagel and fruit before walking together to his driveway where her car was parked next to the cruiser.

"You're turning this thing back in today?" she asked.

"Yup, Carl will be disappointed."

"He told me he wanted you to keep it forever," she laughed.

Rick shook his head at his son's childlike fascination with the vehicle. It was the one thing he still thought was cool about his dad, and he almost wanted to keep driving it to see him fawn over it like that. It got terrible gas mileage and smelled like Daryl though, so he decided against it.

"Be careful today," she said, her tone turning somber.

"Listen," he said, knowing they had to get going. "Don't worry about anything. Everything's going to be fine." He pulled her hips to him so she was pressed against his front. "I know what I have here, Michonne. I'm not going to take any chances."

"I love you," she said, cupping his face. "I'll see you tonight."

"I promise you will." He kissed her one more time, then turned to open her door, closing it behind her as she slid into the driver's side. He watched her pull away before settling into his vehicle and starting the drive to the station.

The roads were quiet, and Michonne had just enough of a head start, due to his habit of securing his weapon and starting up his computer before he took off, that he wasn't able to see her ahead of him as they travelled the same route. He ran over tactics in his head; how many teams they would send, who he wanted on them. He and Daryl would take point, since they were the only ones who could identify Gareth, and they needed him secured immediately if he was on site.

The judge had agreed to a "no knock" warrant and, with the kind of arsenal Noah described, he had no idea what they would be rushing into when they opened that door. He did know one thing: he was playing this safe. He'd told Michonne once that you had to know what you wanted in order to be afraid of someone taking it away. Well, he knew now. He had exactly what he wanted and he was going to come home tonight and keep having it.

Once he arrived at the station the place was abuzz with the excited energy of the operation. It was a small department and, his own injury withstanding, this type of action was rare. Michonne was right when she had guessed they dealt with a lot of running red light incidents, but he'd been a cop a long time. It was rare, but not a first for him.

He and Daryl had served this type of warrant before, years ago when they had tracked down a kidnapping suspect. He used to get off on the type of adrenaline rush you get from kicking down a door and dragging a suspect out of bed in the middle of the night. There was a part of him, deep down, that was excited by the risks of his job.

He became a cop because he wanted to protect and serve, but you don't run into the line of fire for strangers if you don't have a little something feral inside. The danger of his job kept that ember burning low, kept it in check. He was reaquainted with that untamed side recently, but he also remembered what it was like to be on the other side of the danger, thinking it had finally taken you down. He was the only one in the room who knew what that felt like and he wanted to make sure he was clear when he told them not to take risks here. They had a job and they would do it, but nobody needed to be a hero today.

After assembling their teams, and going over the plan, Rick looked at the men before him who were ready to walk into danger on his command, on his lead and his case. Two of his best friends would be there, as well as three other men whom he worked with every day. They'd agreed when he'd told them how he wanted this to go down, and now they were suiting up, ready to follow his lead. He nodded to Daryl who was securing a long gun in the trunk of their cruiser, and got behind the wheel. He checked his vest, though he was acutely aware of its limitations, and holstered his weapon, after one last peek in the chamber.

The drive across town was quick, as most treks were in this tiny town of back roads and quiet commutes. The three cruisers, each carrying two officers, slowed to a stop a few blocks from the small house Daryl and he had staked out a little over two weeks ago. Daryl calmly tucked the warrant in his pocket and gave Rick one more nod before they exited the car. Continuing on foot, they fanned out, one team on each side of the building, Shane and his partner to the right and the other team to the left.

Rick and Daryl came to a crouching position on either side of the front steps, waiting. Shane pressed his back against the corner of the house and, glancing at his partner first, lifted his bent arm once, then lowered it in a chopping motion, signalling they were in position. Daryl peered around the other corner, spying the same signal from the second team and he lifted his gun, stepping in front of the door. Rick followed, moving quickly in front of his partner and taking the two stairs silently, Daryl a foot behind him. He met Daryl's eyes one last time, then turned forward, lifting his leg and driving his foot into the door, breaking the lock.

The wooden door splintered and flew open. Daryl rushed past him, pointing his weapon straight ahead as he ran inside, shouting his identification. Rick raised his gun and followed behind, charging through the threshold and aiming left, then right, scanning the room. Nothing. They heard another officer break through the back door and identify himself and the three came face to face alone in an empty room. The furniture was gone except for a stained, brown couch with a large tear in the center cushion. There were no signs anyone had been here in days.

Exchanging a heavy glance, Daryl and Rick split, each taking one side of a hallway that led off of either end of the kitchen. The other officer signalled for Shane to enter and they began searching cupboards and closets, finding them all bare.

"Clear," Daryl yelled from one end of the home. "Fuck!" He was unable to stifle his exasperation, shouting and driving his fist into the drywall in the empty hall.

Rick followed with his own declaration that the other end of the house was empty as well. They hurried back to the living room just as Shane finished his once over of the kitchen.

"Nothing, Brother," he informed Rick, running a hand through his dark hair.

"You think Noah was full of shit?" Daryl asked, his breath starting to labor as the adrenaline wore off.

"We know there was someone here. We saw 'em."

"That was weeks ago and the kid's been in the hospital awhile," Shane said, passing his eyes back and forth between Daryl's profanity filled pacing and Rick's stoic stature. "They musta moved on."

"How long you think it took 'em to clear this shit outta here, if Noah was right about this being headquarters?" Rick set his hands on his hips, his forehead creasing with worry.

"I dunno, man," Daryl responded, settling himself to try and follow Rick's train of thought.

"If they split because they got word that Noah talked, he's in trouble."

Daryl nodded, understanding that they hadn't just missed their shot, they'd also broken a promise to take care of this quickly, and now the kid had a target on his back.

The last two officers came in through the broken back door, finding their comrades circled up and looking defeated.

"The perimeter is clear. No sign of anybody coming or going," Officer Lamson said.

Rick dropped his head into his hands, sinking to one knee. He let out a frustrated growl, pounding his fist into the dingy, beige carpet.

"What's the next move?" Daryl asked, staring down at his partner.

"We gotta get to the hospital." He looked at Shane. "Can you secure this scene?"

"I got it. We'll talk to the neighbors, too. See if anyone saw them move. Go on," he said, slapping his palm on Rick's shoulder and watching as he and Daryl rushed out of the empty house.

…

"So you have no idea where these guys are? That's what you're saying, Deputy?" Dr. Wilkes was making no attempt at hiding his anger at their failure.

"No, sir. Not at this time," Rick admitted. He stood in the doorway of Noah's hospital room, holding his hat in both hands in front of him.

"You told us this was the last piece you needed," Noah's mother said, glancing between her husband, and Rick and Daryl.

"Woulda been if they were there," Daryl countered.

"Did they have any other places that they worked out of?" Rick asked, trying not to convey his desperation.

Noah shook his head, silently. The gravity of what they were telling him was settling in and he found himself staring straight ahead, unable to look either of his parents in the eye. He knew there was an imaginary timer counting down above his head, ticking away the moments he had left until Rick and Daryl found Gareth, or Gareth found him. If they knew the cops were onto them, it wouldn't take much to trace it to him, since he was the only one out of commission.

"So, now what?" Dr. Wilkes asked. He set his hands on his hips, squaring his shoulders as he spoke. "How are you going to keep my son safe, Deputies?"

Rick brought a hand up to his forehead, scratching lightly with his thumb. He knew better than to double down on a promise he hadn't yet delivered on, and there was no question they'd just lost their biggest lead yet. "We still have a name and a face and it ain't a big town. Someone is going to slip up and we'll be ready, because of what Noah gave us."

"This ain't over," Daryl joined, seeing the toll the conversation was having on Rick. "Not even close."

Dr. Wilkes, turned away from them, crossing the room to stand beside his wife and son. "Let's hope it's not," he said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

 **...**

Rick unbuttoned his uniform shirt, letting it fall to the floor behind him. His room was dark as the sun was beginning its evening routine, and he flipped on the lamp beside his bed giving him the light he needed to fish some clothes out of his closet. Thoughts of Noah's father filled his head as he puttered around his room, getting ready to pick up his son and take him home safely for the night. He saw the fear hiding behind Dr. Wilkes' angry eyes when he had broken the news that they didn't have anyone in custody. They both knew no one could keep Noah completely safe, until they took out Gareth.

He grabbed a t shirt and a pair of jeans, tossing them on his bed before ridding himself of the rest of his uniform and walking naked to the bathroom to steal a quick shower. He had twenty minutes until Michonne arrived and they headed to his mother's house for dinner, and to pick up Carl. Just enough time.

He heard Michonne open the door as he was drying his hair and he wrapped the towel he was using around his waist to head downstairs to greet her. She let out a long sigh when she saw him, taking a few short strides to meet him at the bottom of his staircase. Her hand went to the back of his neck, pulling his face to hers so she could kiss him. "How are you?" she asked, when she released him.

He smiled, wearily at the question. He was pissed, worried, on edge, all of those things, but he simply kissed her cheek and answered, "better now."

She eyed his face, not finding him very convincing, but she figured he would talk about it later when they settled into bed, as was his habit. She often mused that his insomnia might start to ease if he wouldn't wait until his head hit the pillow to start thumbing through his deepest thoughts. She didn't mind, though. A man that talked at all was a rare find and if that was when he wanted to open up, she would give him that.

"I got your mail," she said, tossing some envelopes on the small table by the entry.

"Thanks. Just give me five minutes and we'll go." He took off back up the stairs, quickly dressing in the clothes he had laid out and pulling on his boots. He ran his hands through his hair, smoothing a few unruly curls, then grabbed his jacket and trotted back down.

Michonne was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and he took the opportunity to gather his wallet and keys from the table where she had tossed his mail. He noticed one large envelope and picked it out of the pile, scanning the return label. He recognized it immediately. It was the same law firm who had sent him the paternity results for Lori's daughter. He looked back at Michonne once more, then used his key to tear open the top of the envelope so he could pull out the single sheet of paper enclosed. His eyes scanning the body of the letter, he called for Michonne before he had reached the end, handing it to her as she came to stand next to him.

She took it, silently searching his eyes before reading the correspondence. "She's doing it," she whispered.

"That's what that means, right?" he asked, relying on her fluency in legal documents.

"She's petitioning to modify the agreement. She's claiming there has been a change in circumstance that warrants a revisit."

"Does it say what she's asking for?"

"No. This is just a courtesy to you, letting you know they intend to file the paperwork and take it to court. She hasn't done it yet."

"That's real courteous of her," he sneered.

"Rick," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "This is going to take awhile. You have time to build a case to fight her on it. Put this somewhere Carl isn't going to stumble upon it, and let's go have dinner. We will work this out." She looked him up and down, cursing the timing after the disappointment he'd already had today. "You okay?"

He nodded, letting himself follow her lead on the matter. Folding the paper and putting it in his jacket pocket, he wrapped a hand around her back, pulling her to him. "I knew it was comin'," he said. "I'm okay." He dropped his head to the crook of her neck and letting her scratch her nails lightly through his still damp hair. "You should probably stay tonight, though. Just to make sure."

She pushed him back, eyeing the unapologetic smirk on his face. "You have no shame," she chided, playfully punching his arm.

"Really, though," he said on the end of a chuckle. He already knew this time was different. She believed in him and he wouldn't let her or Carl down again. He tipped his head, meeting her gaze with a storm of blue. "I'm ready this time. Everything I need is going to be sitting around that dinner table tonight and I'm not losing any of it again."

"No you're not," she said. "I'm not." She allowed him to return for a kiss on her cheek and slid her hand into his, leading him to the door. "Let's go get Carl... and, Rick, my stuff's in the car."

 **A/N had to edit this chapter on my phone...hope there are no glaring mistakes :-). Thanks for your reviews!**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N super long chapter here! Thanks for reading and reviewing :-)**

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 _..."You're doing the right thing," he told Noah._

" _We're counting on you." Dr. Wilkes had looked in his eyes and told him in no uncertain terms that it was up to him to keep his son safe in exchange for this help. He had promised him, as a deputy, man to man, father to father._

 _The intel was bad. Or at least expired, but maybe it was their stake out that had scared them off. Maybe they were already packing up when he'd asked Noah to go out on that limb for him..._

"Baby, where are you right now?" Michonne asked, looking down at Rick as she straddled him.

"I'm here," he said, sliding his hands up her bare torso and cupping her breasts. "Don't stop." He loved watching her take charge, laying back and relishing in the view while she moved above him. He had started this, unable to control his hands when he had rolled over to her sleeping beside him in just a pair of panties, but now he couldn't get his mind to settle.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his chest as she continued to divinely circle her hips into him. His hand grasped her hair, trying to hold on to the moment.

 _...If they'd just requested the warrant after they'd seen Gareth themselves, they wouldn't have needed to involve this kid at all. If they could have convinced a judge to let them go in on Jesus's anonymous tip... but Merle, Jesus, neither of them had any credibility as far as Deanna was concerned, and neither did he. If he hadn't given her a reason to doubt him in the first place, or had tried harder to convince her to trust him, rather than fighting with her, maybe they would have gone on his word. He used to have that kind of sway..._

He heard Michonne in his ear, her soft breaths turning more audible. He was still clutching her. He tried to focus on her skin beneath his fingers, digging them further into her flesh as she worked. He could tell she was on the verge.

This was usually his favorite position. She couldn't get much closer to him, her whole body flush with his. He could see past her shoulders, watch her round ass moving as she pressed into him. Her hair fell around her head, landing on his chest. Her neck was so close to his face that the scent pooling at her pulse points overwhelmed every breath he took, and he only had to turn his face slightly to taste her salty skin. He tried to lose himself in her like he always did, but this morning the passive position was allowing his thoughts to roam.

He tapped her lightly on the backside, his signal when he wanted to change what they were doing. She rolled off of him, and he grabbed her waist firmly, flipping her over onto her stomach. He needed to take charge, to work for it. She lifted her hips to meet him as he rejoined with her, and tried to match her previous pace. This was good, it demanded his focus. His head was clearing. He pressed his mouth to the back of her shoulder, scraping his teeth lightly against her skin and he felt her go over the edge. He slowed for a moment, holding her tightly around the waist as she rode it out.

When it was his turn his thrusts became harder. Though his mind was back in the moment, his body still housed so much tension, and it was working on its own to release it. He heard her wince perceptibly as he hit her resistance once, twice.

"Rick."

"Sorry," he said, pulling out and watching her turn onto her back.

"It's ok." She reached for him, opening once again to allow him in.

Slower this time and face to face with her, he kept his eyes open, concentrating on hers. She was looking into him now, whispering to his thoughts with her gaze. He took her silent encouragement and gave in to the release, as she steeled herself against his force.

"Where did you go?" she whispered, when his head settled onto her shoulder. She ran her fingers along his jaw as he tried to fight the urge to go back to sleep.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Noah," he said quietly. "I promised him and his family we'd take care of this. Every day that we don't, he's in danger."

"You'll get them," she said. "It's only a matter of time."

"I don't know if we have that kind of time," he sighed. After a few moments in silence he pushed up onto his hands, hovering above her. "This is good," he said. "Waking up together."

"I don't know," she joked. "You are shaving hours off of my beauty sleep on both ends, Grimes. It's still so early."

"Sorry," he chuckled, letting his hand trace her flat stomach, he reached her hip and squeezed. "You know I don't sleep, and you looked too good not to touch."

"You did more than touch," she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm just sayin' I like seeing you when I first wake up. Gettin' ready for the day together. Kissing you goodbye before I go to work."

"I like it too." She reached down to take his hand and brought it to her lips. "Speaking of getting ready, you need to get Carl up for school and we should probably get dressed."

"You want first shower?"

"No," she said, rolling out of bed. "I'll start breakfast since you've given me all of this extra time to get ready." She smiled at him as she sorted through their various clothing on the floor beside the bed and put together an outfit with his t-shirt and the shorts she had slept in.

She slipped out of Rick's room, quietly making her way to the kitchen, expecting to have at least half an hour before either one of them joined her. Turning the corner, she was startled to see Carl already standing at the refrigerator in his pajamas.

"Hey," she greeted, inwardly wondering how long he had been down here and what he might have heard.

"Hey. Where's my dad? I'm starving."

"He's in the shower. Why are you up so early?"

He shrugged. "Got enough sleep I guess."

Carl wasn't giving off the impression that anything was out of the ordinary so she relaxed a bit and came to stand beside him at the fridge. "I can make you something for breakfast. What do you want?"

"Eggs, I guess." He reached inside to grab the carton of eggs, handing them to her, then returned for the milk. "What is this?" he asked, pulling out a carton of what he thought was his usual two percent.

"It's soy milk," she replied, chuckling at his scrunched up face.

"That's disgusting. Did my dad get that by accident?"

"I bought it, actually," she said, grabbing the carton from his hands. "Your stuff is in the back."

"Soy milk, tea, vegetables on pizza...I don't recognize this place anymore," he joked, with a shake of his head.

"Hey, just wait till you taste my scrambled eggs, then we'll see how much you're complaining." She turned away from him, shuffling through a few cabinets, looking for a frying pan.

"I'm not complaining," Carl said seriously, dropping into a seat at the table. "Change is good. Except for the milk...I'm not changing that."

She beamed at him over her shoulder as she got to work cracking the eggs. "Deal."

Michonne and Carl were both finishing their breakfast when Rick came around the corner, stopping at the doorway to the kitchen to take in the sight. The two sat across from each other, engrossed in a light hearted conversation about a book Carl had to read for school. He watched for a few more minutes before making his presence known.

"Sorry we started without you," Michonne said, when he joined them. "I've got to start getting ready for work, but the eggs are still hot in the pan." She stood to clear her plate brushing a hand across his stomach as she passed him.

"Thanks. Carl, you'd better head on up and get ready too. We have to leave in an hour."

"Alright, dad," Carl answered, dropping his plate in the sink and heading out of the room.

"He's never gonna eat my eggs again," Rick said, using a fork to scoop his breakfast right from the frying pan.

Michonne handed him a plate and nudged him out of the way with her hip so she could scrape the rest of the eggs onto it. She walked to the sink with the pan and he stopped her. "I'll clean up when I get back from dropping Carl at school. I'm not in until eleven today."

"Ok," she agreed, running some water on the dirty dish and leaving it.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asked. The twelve hour shift he had scheduled on a Friday was forcing a delay to their weekend together. It would be after midnight by the time he made it home, so he would have to sleep without her tonight. He was already dreading it.

"Maggie and Glenn invited me out for drinks. I'll probably do that, then head home early and make up for the sleep you have been stealing from me this week."

"Good," he said in between bites. "Get it in while you can. You're coming back tomorrow."

"My poor lonely house," she lamented with a smile. "You never let me spend any time there."

"Get rid of it, then," he said, as easily as if he was suggesting a date for lunch. "Stay here for good."

"Rick…"

He shrugged, taking his last bite and dropping his plate in the sink. "I told you," he said, waving his hand back and forth between them. "This is good."

Michonne regarded him for a moment, trying to gauge his seriousness, but she knew he didn't make flippant remarks. She looked away from his eyes, so as not to lose her sense in them. "You know, we'll be glad to have that place in the summer," she said, suddenly finding a few tasks that needed her attention. She continued to avoid his gaze as she wiped the counter of some bread crumbs that were left.

Rick smiled at the back of her head. He enjoyed disarming her. She didn't turn shy for just anyone. "You don't have to decide right now. I just wanted all my cards on the table."

"I should get ready for work," she said, finally turning back to him.

He nodded, watching her walk away and thinking of enjoying that view every morning.

…

Maggie poked her head into Michonne's office with a tiny knock on the doorframe. "Busy?" she asked.

"Come on in," Michonne said, pushing aside her keyboard and leaning back in her chair.

"Just wanted to make sure you were still coming tonight." She crossed the room and took the seat across from her friend.

"I was planning on working late, but I'll be over at some point. Do you think you'll be there awhile?"

"Of course!" Maggie answered. "It's Friday night. I was planning on closing the place down."

Michonne laughed at the younger woman's enthusiasm. She certainly enjoyed a night out. In fact there had been many a weekend, when she lived in the city, that the party started on Thursday night and stretched for four days. She wasn't sure if it was the sleepy town with its one bar, or the pull of a gorgeous man waiting for her when she got out of work, that had started to convince her staying in could be just as enjoyable. She briefly entertained the idea that she was just getting too old to keep up and it spurred her to commit to having a good time.

"I'll be there around eight, ok?"

"Perfect. I'll have a drink waitin'." She jumped back up from the chair and practically skipped the rest of the way out of Michonne's office, clearly already done with work mode for the day.

"Kids," Michonne snickered to herself.

…

"These twelve hours are killing me after you finagled those nine to fives all week," Daryl grumbled, stretching his legs as far as he could in the passenger seat. They were passing the time parked along a quiet road on the outskirts of town, hoping to catch any happy hour patrons who should have handed their keys off.

"Yeah, we may need to do another coffee run." Rick glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was only eight-thirty and he was already yawning, the darkness of the evening coddling his heavy lids. Maybe Michonne was right about getting more sleep, he thought.

"Friday night, too. Should be at the bar by now."

"'Chonne's at Morgan's now, actually. She's having drinks with Maggie and Glenn."

"Yeah? She's fun when you're not around then, huh?"

Rick chuckled at his partner's jab, giving him a cocky smile. "She's fun with me too."

Daryl flashed him an amused look, knowing that was as close to kissing and telling as Rick ever got.

"I asked her to move in with me today," Rick said, as off-handedly as he had when he'd posed the question to Michonne.

Though he wasn't expecting to hear that bit of information, Daryl didn't give a big response, nodding silently as he kept his eyes ahead. When it came to Rick and Michonne, they'd all seen the writing on the wall before either of the two had acknowledged it. They were perfect for each other, even if he hated to give Andrea credit for being right, and Rick had good intuition, once he knew something, he knew it. "What'd she say?" he asked.

"She didn't say no," he said with a smile and a glint in his eye.

Daryl nodded again, figuring just like Rick did, that that was as good as a yes.

"I'm not kidding," Rick said after a moment. "I'm going to pass out if we don't get some caffeine, let's hit that gas station at the last intersection." He turned the key, flooding the dark road with his headlights and put the car in gear. The song on the radio changed just as he let his foot off the brake, and they heard the hum of a motor over the new, quieter tune. Rick pushed the pedal back down, waiting, listening. The noise got louder and they saw the bright white lights of a car come quickly around the corner, passing them at a speed much higher than the poorly lit road warranted.

"Here we go," Daryl said. "Finally."

Rick hit the gas, sending little pieces of gravel spinning from his tires and into the undercarriage of the cruiser as he pulled out to follow the speeding car. Daryl switched on the siren and they travelled a little ways before the curves of the road evened out and they were able to see the taillights of the vehicle again. The busier part of town was just up ahead, and they were thankful when the car finally pulled off to the edge of the road, allowing Rick to maneuver in behind them.

"He's pushin' it," Daryl noted, grabbing the sheriff's hat that he rarely wore and placing it on his head as he opened the door. Rick did the same and fished his flashlight off of his utility belt.

They split to approach the vehicle on either side, Daryl lingering at the back bumper for a moment, peering in the back seat. Rick approached the driver's side door, rapping a knuckle on the window before stepping back to watch it open. When he had a view of the man behind the wheel he dipped his head slightly to look past him, noting the empty passenger seat, then glanced at Daryl who gestured to the back seat. He spotted a second man, looking nervous and skittish, huddled in the rear.

"You know how fast you were going?" Rick asked, shining his light into the cab but keeping an eye on the rear passenger.

"Sorry, Deputy. Wasn't sure what the limit was, guess I was taking it too fast." The man had a ball cap on with dark hair peeking out from under it and sparsely covering his chin and upper lip.

"Can I see your license and registration?"

"What's wrong with your buddy?" Daryl interrupted. Rick looked back to see the man in the rear had his arms wrapped around his shoulders and was rocking back and forth.

The driver made no move to gather his documents as Rick and Daryl conferred silently over the roof of the car.

"Why don't you go ahead and step out of the car," Rick said, taking a step back to allow the man to open his door. His pulse quickened as the situation escalated. Whatever was going on with the guy in the back didn't look good.

The driver exited the vehicle and came to stand in front of the hood as Rick directed.

"You too," Daryl said to the passenger, knocking on the back window to alert him.

When he didn't move, Rick turned his attention toward the other man, and the driver took off running. He sprinted up the road a few feet, then darted across and into the thick tree line that ran the length of this stretch of road.

"Shit." Rick broke into a run after him, crossing the dark street and pointing his flashlight into the brush as he weaved through trees.

"Stay put!" Daryl yelled to the man in the back. Following Rick, he grabbed his radio on his shoulder and spoke into it as he ran. "Requesting back up. In pursuit of a suspect on foot in the woods off of mile thirteen, Dodd Road."

Daryl heard the dispatcher respond and he pulled out his weapon, running toward the beam of Rick's flashlight. He caught up to Rick as he slowed, looking back and forth for the suspect through the thick forest.

Rick gestured to Daryl to go left, then lifted his gun, stalking to his right. As he crouched through the low hanging branches, he heard the crunch of a stick over his shoulder and spun on his heel, pressing his back against a tall tree. "Stop!" he yelled. "Put your hands up and come out!"

He got no response so he turned his head, peeking out from his position just as he heard two gunshots buzz past him and echo off of the tree trunks. He pulled back quickly, crouching against the trunk.

"Daryl!" he whispered, spotting his friend a few feet away.

Daryl lifted his arm, silently pointing eastward. The two came out from their positions and ran in the direction he indicated, weaving behind the tall trees as they tracked him.

…

"I see you already got a head start," Michonne joked as she came up behind Maggie at the bar.

"Yay! You made it!" Maggie hopped down from the stool she was perched on, giving her friend an enthusiastic embrace.

"I told you I would." Michonne released her and waved a greeting to Morgan who had noticed her arrive and was already making his way over. She ordered a drink and the two crossed the room to take a table by the window, so they could watch for Glenn's arrival.

"You're right on time," Maggie said, once they were settled. "And you had time to go home and change!" She took in Michonne's jeans and flowy t-shirt. She still had her makeup on and hair up from work, but she looked much more relaxed.

"You had me looking forward to a night out." She tipped her glass up to Maggie's just as she spotted Glenn heading toward the table.

"Hey guys," he greeted, giving Maggie a kiss before sliding into a chair beside her. "Glad you could come, Michonne. Rosita's on her way, too." He leaned back in his seat with a smug smile, looking quite proud of himself. "I'm going to look like quite the stud surrounded by all of you women."

"You always look like a stud, honey," Maggie said, patting his knee as Michonne chuckled at the two.

Rosita came through the door next, as if on cue, and as they were saying their hellos Glenn spotted Abraham passing by the window, heading into the bar. "Stud status downgraded," he sighed.

The large man bellowed his greeting as soon as he noticed the table of his friends and bypassed the bar, heading straight for them.

"How's it going, man?" Glenn asked, patting his friend on the back.

"Y'all having a party without me?" Abraham said, plopping down in the open seat at the end of the table.

"Hey! Didn't mean to. Thought you had a long shift today?" Maggie said.

"Slow night, I took the early cut. Figured I'd get a drink in before I was expected home." He turned to Michonne with a smile. "Mouse out playing while the cat's on patrol?" he joked.

"I feel like I should be offended by that insinuation, Abraham," she retorted.

"That's pretty typical when you're talking to Abe," Rosita said. "You ready for another?" She stood, gesturing for Michonne to follow her to the bar.

"Grab me a beer, would ya, sweetheart?" Abe called after her. "Tell Morgan to put it on my tab."

Rosita rolled her eyes at him as they walked toward the bar. "What's new, chica?" she asked, as they waited for Morgan to mix their drinks. "Heard you had a romantic weekend away with your man recently."

"Does Andrea spend all her time talking about everyone else's relationships?" Michonne groaned.

"Keeps us from asking too many questions about her, right?" Rosita didn't mind Andrea's prying as much as Michonne, but she knew the real motives. "No one knows anything about her and Shane unless it's about the sex."

Michonne was quiet for a moment, considering the new insight Rosita had offered on her oldest friend. Andrea was at a conference this weekend in Atlanta, and Shane also had the weekend off and was mysteriously missing, yet no one even thought to ask about the coincidence. Her thoughts were interrupted however, by the loud whine of sirens blaring outside. She turned over her shoulder, watching as three cruisers went speeding by the window behind the table where her friends sat.

"Something's going down," Rosita said, grabbing her drink and Abe's beer and walking back toward the table.

Michonne took her drink and followed, coming upon the group staring at each other while Maggie peered out the window. She looked over at Abe who was uncharacteristically quiet while he sipped his beer. "Why does your face look like that?" she asked.

Instead of offering a typical snide remark, he just shrugged, tossing a glance at Glenn.

"They're worried about the guys," Rosita answered. "That's a lot of sirens."

Michonne settled back into her seat, taking another look at the faces of her friends. "Turn on your radio," she said to Abe, who was still dressed in his uniform and utility belt from the shift he just ended.

"Now that is a good way to get them panties unnecessarily twisted," he said, shaking his head. "They're probably chasing some kids joyriding in their dad's Volvo."

"Abe," she said firmly. "Turn it on."

"You can't get the full story from the transmissions," Glenn offered, sharing another look with Abe. "Trying to piece it together can make it seem worse than it is."

Michonne crossed her arms, glaring back and forth between the two men, while Maggie sat silently chewing on the straw from her cocktail.

"Just turn it on, Abe," Rosita said. She didn't look worried, but Michonne knew whatever it was she was doing with Daryl, she'd be wondering too.

"It's your heart attack, ladies," he said, unclipping the radio from his belt and setting it in the center of the table. He turned the dial with his thick thumb until the static gave way to voices.

" _Be advised backup is en route to your location,_ " they heard a female voice say.

" _We have shots fired, repeat shots fired. Continuing pursuit."_

"That was Rick," Maggie said, glancing back and forth between Glenn and Michonne.

Michonne's eyes were glued to the radio as if she could see the scene play out, wanting, praying for more details to fill in the picture she was forming in her head.

Another officer came on. " _Grimes, Dixon, we spotted the vehicle and your car at the scene, taking the remaining passenger into custody. What's your twenty?"_

They heard nothing but static for a few minutes, all anxiously waiting for Rick or Daryl to come on again and give their location.

" _Repeat, what's your twenty?"_

"Why aren't they answering?" Michonne asked, looking across the table at Glenn.

"They could have silenced their radios if they're trying to catch up with someone quietly."

She nodded, in no way comforted by his answer.

"If they've got their radios off, ain't no sense in y'all sitting here listening to static," Abe said, reaching for the walkie.

The radio sprang to life just as he lifted it, stopping him in his mission. " _We're coming up behind the housing development on Granite Ridge. Request backup reroute to this location. Suspect has entered a house there."_ They listened as Daryl's voice came over the air, giving them more details. " _Repeat, waiting on backup."_

" _Copy that, we're on our way."_

…

"Can you see if anyone's home at either of these neighboring houses?" Rick whispered. They had followed the driver of the car through about a mile of woods before coming out on the other side to the back of a neighborhood, where they watched him run up the back stairs and into a two-story raised ranch.

"Looks like a car in the driveway of one. Other one looks quiet," Daryl said from his slightly elevated vantage. True to it's name, the neighborhood they were looking at was built on a ridge and the two were standing just below the crest of it, peering at the backyards of the houses there.

" _Dixon, we're coming up on the neighborhood. What's the house number?"_ The voice of the responding officer was coming through as a whisper as Daryl had turned his radio down to avoid detection while they waited.

Rick and Daryl glanced at each other, knowing they would need to make their way to the front of the home to get an exact address. Rick tipped his head to the right, indicating he would take that direction while Daryl took the left.

"Stand by," Rick responded through his radio. He watched Daryl take off, then climbed the last two feet to the top of the incline and crept a wide circle around the house, attempting to stay in the shadows of the neighboring building. Daryl arrived first and he heard him convey the house number over the radio. As he came around the front of the house, he spotted his partner on the opposite side of the yard, lingering in the tree line that separated them from the next yard over.

They heard the crunching of gravel and assumed it was the backup arriving, but they both quickly ducked out of sight when instead of a cruiser, a black SUV that looked very familiar pulled into the driveway.

A tall man got out, opening the back door of the SUV and speaking to someone. Rick watched as the man reached in and pulled Noah out of the car, marching him up the front steps. He knocked on the door and it opened, revealing Gareth waiting at the threshold. He stepped aside as the man dragged Noah into the house, then the door shut.

" _Be advised, backup is approaching from the east end of the road,"_ they heard over the radio.

"Hold up," Daryl responded. "Y'all just stay put a minute."

He glanced across the driveway at Rick, then darted from his spot, landing behind the SUV and crouching for a moment. He scanned the area before running the rest of the way to Rick's position.

…

"Where is that neighborhood?" Michonne asked, trying not to let her voice betray the fear that she was feeling. "Why would they tell the backup to stop?"

"This is exactly why I didn't want you listening," Abe said, sounding irritated. "Ain't no way to know what they're doing. I"m sure Rick will call you when it's all done and let you know what happened. Now let's shut this off, huh?" He reached for the radio again.

"Abe, No!" Michonne couldn't help but wonder if he was projecting his own nervousness into his terse tone, but she wasn't about to let him turn that radio off until she knew Rick was safe. She reached across the table, blocking his hand. "Please."

Abraham pounded his fist on the table, startling all of them, before standing from his chair. "Y'all go ahead. I'll be at the bar."

"Abe," Glenn called after him as he crossed the room. "Michonne, are you sure you want to keep this on?"

"I'm sure," she said. "I have to know."

…

"That was Noah," Daryl whispered as he crouched beside Rick who was leaned behind the fence separating the driveway from the next house.

"And Gareth." Rick replied.

"Can't have the calvary bustin' in while he's in there."

"No we can't. Good call telling them to wait."

"So what's the play?"

Rick peeked his head around the fence, surveying the house. There were lights on in the kitchen and what looked like the main living room. The rest of the house was dark. Unless they were standing shoulder to shoulder in there, or hiding in a dark room, he guessed there were probably only a handful inside. Maybe only the three they had seen so far, plus Noah. "They're armed," he said.

Daryl nodded. "So are we."

"Right, but we can't risk a fire fight with Noah in there. I have a feeling they aren't interested in keeping him alive."

"Looks like we're ringing the doorbell."

"Tell those guys to roll in quietly. We'll set up a perimeter, but stay back and outta sight."

Daryl palmed his radio, pressing the button and speaking just over a whisper. "Requesting responding units rendezvous to location. 10-40 boys, kill the lights."

" _Copy that."_

"We gotta call this in to the Sheriff, too."

"I'm on it." Daryl stepped around the fence to make his call while Rick continued to sneak glances at the home, taking in as many details as he could.

As Daryl stepped back to join him, they watched the cruisers roll up, cloaked in darkness, and Rick met them in the road in front of the neighboring house. They angled two cars at the foot of the driveway, giving them a sheltered position, then moved the third out of sight and pointed toward an exit route.

The deputies exited their cars and circled Rick. "You two," he said, pointing at Leon and his partner. "Check the two houses on either side, if anyone is home, get 'em out quietly." He sent them on their way and turned to the next team. "Lamson, these are the guys we were looking for yesterday. The suspect ran in and we spotted our guy inside."

"They've got our informant, too," Daryl added. "Keep an eye out for him."

"That's right, set up a perimeter, but keep out of sight and don't let the kid get in the crossfire if anything goes down."

"You got it," Lamson agreed, nodding to the remaining three men and heading off to surround the building.

Rick glanced at Daryl then lifted his radio to relay their plan. "Command, this is Deputy Grimes," he said into the small mic on his shoulder. "We have deputies surrounding the location, I'm taking lead, about to initiate contact. Be advised: suspect is armed and we've got a man inside who we believe is a hostage."

" _Copy, Grimes."_ Sheriff Dion responded. " _Be careful and let's get these guys."_

"Yes sir." He ended his transmission and removed his hat, tossing it on the ground and running a hand through his hair. "Game time," he said to Daryl.

Rick stepped up to one of the cruisers, opening the door and taking position behind it, while Daryl made his way to the other side, resting his arms on the roof and pointing his weapon at the house. Once his partner was in position, Rick grabbed the public address mic from the center of the cruiser and held down the button. "This is Deputy Grimes from the King's County Sheriff's Department. Occupants of 104 Granite Ridge, come out with your hands up."

They waited a moment then, hearing nothing, he lifted the mic to repeat the order. "I repeat, we need…" His address was cut off by the sudden sound of the front door flying open and gunshots ringing toward them. Rick dropped to his knee, crouching behind the cruiser door as the lead tore through the metal of the frame. "Shit," he cursed, glancing behind him through the car, searching for Daryl on the other side. He could see the top of his back through the window as he ducked to avoid the bullets. Daryl straightened, aiming again and fired three rounds in succession at the now closed door.

Rick remained crouched for a moment, considering how to proceed when he heard Lamson on the radio. " _We've got movement in the back of the house,_ " he said.

Rick responded, "Leon, we need you two to come back and join the perimeter. Lamson, anyone goes out that back door, you go after 'em, Daryl and I have the front."

" _Copy that._ "

"Command, be advised we have multiple shots fired from the location, officers returned fire. We all hands on deck here?" Rick returned to the radio, hoping they could send them some reinforcements, but knowing that this was likely the extent of the small force at the moment.

" _That's everyone we got, Grimes."_

…

Maggie was standing near her chair now, unable to keep still. Michonne leaned across the table, listening intently as Rick announced that they were under fire. She felt tears beginning to form in her eyes, but she wiped them away with one pass of the back of her hand and forced her face to remain neutral. Rick was going to be ok. He had to be ok. She looked over at Glenn who was staring at the black walkie talkie, waiting for more information, then across the room at Abraham who, despite his refusal to sit at the table and listen, looked anxiously in their direction.

Rosita met Abe's eyes, giving him a slight nod of reassurance then she returned her gaze to Michonne. "They got this," she said, her face resolute.

Michonne took a deep breath. "They got this," she repeated.

…

"Anyone have eyes on the kid?" Rick asked his men.

" _Negative_." He heard each team respond.

He stood again, palming the mic while he considered the options. They were most likely out gunned, considering the weapon they had just seen was an automatic. Daryl had retrieved a shotgun from the trunk of one of the cruisers and had taken up position once again, but the rest of them had hand guns. The disadvantage, plus Noah's position, didn't allow for much maneuvering. He returned to the P.A. "Let's put the weapon down. No one needs to get hurt. We want to talk to Gareth," he demanded.

After a few moments of silence, they watched one of the windows on the front of the house open slowly, and Rick and Daryl crouched for cover. They expected more gunfire, but instead they heard a voice coming from the dark opening. "Deputy Grimes, we were hoping you got our message on the road the other day, but it looks like we weren't clear enough."

"Let's make sure we're both clear, then," Rick yelled across the lawn. "This is done. Put down your weapons and come out. Now."

Rick was interrupted by his radio. " _Grimes we've got a guy making a break for it out the back, Lamson is pursuing_ ," He heard Leon say.

"Copy." He looked back at Daryl, knowing they were both down one now, and readying himself for any runners out the front door. He heard a commotion in the front of the house and just as he predicted, someone burst out of the house, firing two shots as he took off running toward the tree line.

"Stop!" Rick yelled. The man fired again over his shoulder as he attempted to flee, causing Rick to dive behind the cruiser. Daryl lifted his weapon from the roof of the vehicle, calmly aiming it and landing one bullet in the man's shoulder.

The suspect stumbled backward, his gun flying out of his hands and landing a few feet away. Rick knew they had to get to him before he could fire again. He took a deep breath and yelled to Daryl. "Cover me," he said as he came out from behind the cruiser and rushed toward the man who was holding a hand over his bullet wound and trying to walk on his knees to his weapon. He tackled the injured man, grabbing him around the shoulders and rolling him farther away from his gun.

The man fought back, Rick's hold breaking as they rolled against the hard ground. He lifted his uninjured arm, driving his fist down toward Rick's jaw, causing his head to hit the ground from the force. Rick closed his eyes for a split second, trying to focus his vision and he heard a bullet pass over his head, then heard Daryl return the fire. The suspect, whom he now recognized as the driver they had stopped, covered his head as the bullets flew above them and Rick rolled to his side, doing the same. He pulled up to his hands and knees to unholster his gun, while staying below the gunfire. The sounds stopped and he attempted to push to his feet when he felt a hard kick to his ribs and saw the driver above him, still holding his bleeding appendage. His wound had weakened him, however and the force of his kick brought him back down to the ground. Rick struggled against the pain in his side, where he was sure one of his ribs was cracked, and he managed to pull his gun from his holster aiming it at the the back of the man's head. He drove his knee into his shoulder to keep him from standing.

"Looks like the rats are fleeing the ship," Rick hollered with labored breath as he cuffed the squirming man. "Time for you to come out." He glanced at Daryl to make sure he was still in position to lay down cover and dragged the man to the cluster of cars. One of the other officers met him and he handed the guy off, coming back behind the car where Daryl stood.

"Captain goes down with the ship, don't you know that?" he heard Gareth yell from the darkened window. "Look, we're both down a few by now, so let's hash this out. You and me...and Noah."

Rick was wheezing from the pressure in his rib cage as he hollered back across the front lawn. "Alright," he breathed. "Send Noah out here safe and you and I will talk."

"I don't think that would be wise. As soon as that kid leaves my side, this becomes a whole different tactical operation, isn't that right?" Gareth surmised. "Bullets start flying, most of them aimed at me. No, you come in here, Deputy. Then we'll talk."

Rick looked at Daryl who immediately knew he was considering the request. "You ain't going in there, man. No way."

Rick shrugged. "We could be running outta time."

"We could have nothing but time. He can't stay in there forever and he just said he knows he needs the kid alive."

"I promised Noah, Daryl. This is on me." Rick leaned against the cruiser, trying to pull in deeper breaths to gauge the extent of his injury. Despite the pain, he could fill his lungs if he tried, so he knew nothing was punctured. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking about the evening he had spent at Hershel's after he had snapped on Merle. His friend had warned him about taking unnecessary chances, about slipping from control when it came to his own self preservation. He'd confessed that he didn't care what happened to him at that point, and he knew Daryl was thinking of that now, too. "Look at me," he said, tipping his head to meet his partner's gaze and tapping a finger to his temple. "I'm seeing things clearly right now. I need to see that Noah's ok, see if I can talk to him. If I'm inside I can keep Noah out of the line of fire when you come in. Give me twenty minutes. I'll signal you somehow if I need more time. You don't hear from me, assume it's a go for entry."

Daryl looked him in the eye, conveying both his disapproval with the plan and his concern for the man who was like a brother to him, in one stare. "So that whole 'don't be a hero' speech you gave the other day, that was for everyone but you."

Rick thought of Michonne and the promise he had made to be safe for her. He would stay safe, he would make every attempt to keep his promise, but this was something he needed to do. "I'm going home tonight, Daryl. I'm going to see my boy, see 'Chonne...and Wilkes is going to see his kid too. That's how this is going to go down." He straightened up, holding his left hand over his ribs while unholstering his weapon with the right.

"I'll call it in," Daryl said, reaching for his radio and slapping Rick on the back. "Command, we've got two suspects down. The last wants to talk. Grimes is going in and we're switching to tactical radio frequency. Get EMS down here and tell 'em to be ready."

" _Copy that, Dixon. Grimes, you know what you're doing_?" The Sheriff asked.

Rick nodded to Daryl and he responded for his partner. "He's good."

" _Alright. I'll see you boys on the other channel, over and out."_

…

" _Who's that firing?_ " They heard an unfamiliar voice call over the radio.

" _We're taking and I'm giving,_ " Daryl's voice responded. " _Grimes has the guy down. Hold your positions."_

Michonne was standing beside Maggie now, taking quick breaks to pace a few steps before coming back to stare at the radio. She had her thumb to her mouth, anxiously grinding the nail with her teeth.

" _One in custody._ " Her eyes shot up to meet Rosita's when she heard Rick's voice come through. They exchanged a small nod.

" _Leon's team has the other."_ Another officer replied, before they went silent again.

Abraham had wandered back over to the table when a quick resolution didn't seem forthcoming, shooting Michonne a contrite look before dropping his large frame into the booth next to Glenn.

"Is it over?" Maggie asked, hearing them announce the arrests of two men.

"I don't hear any celebration in those voices," Abe answered, keeping his eyes down at his beer.

"The news crews are gonna be down there if this continues much longer," Maggie said. "I'll tell Morgan to put on the TV behind the bar."

"How much you wanna bet Monroe is already sitting down in hair and makeup waiting on her press conference," Abe joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Shhh," Rosita hushed. They turned back to the radio just in time to hear Daryl announce that Rick was going inside and the radios were going off.

"What's that mean, tactical channel?" Maggie asked, looking toward Glenn.

"It means show times over. They're going stealth mode." Abe reached for the radio yet again.

"You can't listen to that channel?" Michonne asked, her eyes wide at the thought of her live feed ending just as Rick was going inside the building. She glanced at the TV that Morgan had turned on, not seeing any breaking news reports yet.

"We can't. Even if he could find it, we are not supposed to be anywhere near that when they specifically go off the main channel." Glenn looked at the three women with sympathetic eyes. "Sorry."

"Channel eight'll be there any minute I'm sure." Abe gestured again to the television that was blaring a commercial for an upcoming furniture sale and drawing the attention of the other patrons of the bar, who were wondering why the music had stopped.

"I'm going to go," Michonne said, grabbing her purse from the back of the chair she had vacated.

"Why?" Maggie pleaded, grabbing her elbow.

"I should go to Rebeccah's let her and Carl know what's going on before they see it on the television."

"Sweetie, it's after ten, they're both in bed. Just wait until you know something before you go banging on their door in the middle of the night."

Michonne's eyes darted around Maggie's face, knowing she was right, but feeling like she needed to do something. She couldn't just sit there and she couldn't stand to watch something horrible happen on TV with all of the other strangers in the bar. She also didn't want to be alone. She found Rosita again who still seemed calm and the woman raised an eyebrow at her in silent agreement with Maggie.

"Sasha," Glenn said, a thought hitting him as he watched Abe clip the radio back on his belt. "They called in EMS, her and Bob are on. Abe, pull up our channel." He looked back at Michonne and held up his phone in his hand. "If they're on standby, she'll answer me." He started typing a message and Maggie gave her a pleading look that she didn't have the fortitude to deny. She sat back down in her seat, waiting for Glenn.

…

Rick held his gun in front of him, careful to hold it steady through the pain that radiated through his chest when he lifted his arm. He made it to the front door, glancing back at the barrel of Daryl's shotgun, before knocking. The bullet riddled door opened quickly, Gareth remaining angled behind it as Rick stepped through. He scanned the sparsely furnished living area, spotting Noah sitting on the only couch in the room. He nodded at the terrified looking kid then turned toward Gareth, as the door shut behind him.

Gareth crossed the room, perching on the arm of the couch and holding up his automatic rifle before setting it down on the floor in front of him. "Now you," he said, gesturing to the gun Rick still held in his hand.

Rick slowly holstered his weapon on his hip, setting his hand on his belt just above it. "What's your plan, Gareth? I'm here. What do you possibly think we can hash out at this point?"

"Frankly, I didn't think you were going to come." Gareth shrugged smugly as he stared Rick up and down. "You've got balls, I'll give you that. I was just telling Noah that he needed a little more of that...but he was weak and he came to you to help him and now here we all are." He nodded his head and gestured with his hand to punctuate each point.

"Well, you've got me now, so why don't you send him out and you and I can discuss whatever you think we need to talk about."

"I already told you I'm not stupid. Did you think we weren't keeping an eye on our little protege? Keeping tabs on his visitors while he was on his little medical leave? This isn't my first rodeo, Rick, though it's a lot easier to get things done around this tiny little town, I must say." He stood from his seat and peered out the window one more time. "We picked Noah up fair and square, walked him right out of that hospital with a little sweet talking to the nurses. I like to think I take advantage of all the opportunities that come to me in life. What about you, Deputy?"

"The only opportunity I see here is to finally get you the hell out of this town. I told you, this ends tonight."

Gareth smiled, shaking his head before glancing over at Noah who still sat petrified in his seat. "Well, what if I offered you another opportunity? One you may not of thought of yet."

Rick narrowed his eyes, trying to get a read on where this was headed. Gareth was relaxed, sure of himself as he manipulated the conversation.

"Lotta money in this, Deputy Grimes," he said. "Sometimes small town cops like yourself can be persuaded to let business be business." He could see Rick was struggling to understand exactly what he was proposing. "I'm just saying, I've had a few cops on my payroll before. You let me run my operation, we don't get in each other's way too much and you go back to traffic stops. Win, win."

Rick scoffed out loud, settling back on his heels and feeling genuinely amused that offering to pay him off was the best plan that Gareth had come up with. It hinged on so many maybes that any respect he had for the man as an opponent here, quickly started to dissipate. This man wasn't as sophisticated as he made himself out to be. He really was going down with the ship and reaching out to whatever he could try to hold on to. "I'm sorry, Gareth. You picked the wrong guy. I already made you a promise and I intend to keep it."

Gareth's cocky smile quickly faded at Rick's amused one. He could feel the power shifting in the room and it was pissing him off. He stood from the couch and Rick instantly palmed his gun again.

"I said you had balls and I meant it," Gareth said, willing his face to resume his easy smile. "But it looks like we're out of ways out of this." He pulled a handgun out of the waistband of his pants and pointed it at Noah.

Rick let go of his gun, raising his hands in the air as he focused his eyes on the now trembling hostage. Noah was looking at him with desperate eyes and Rick's mind kept flashing images of Carl over the boy's face. Noah was still a kid, someone else's son whom he'd promised to keep safe and now he had a pistol aimed at his skull. "It's gonna be alright, Noah," he said, calmly.

"Don't lie, Rick," Gareth said, all lightness draining from his voice. He turned the gun toward Rick, as he held his hands in the air, and fired a single shot into the flesh above his hip.

Noah let out a scream as Rick dropped backwards against the wall, his hand instinctively pressing the wound as he slid down to a seat on the floor. He could feel the blood running through his fingers and he brought his other hand over to cover it as well.

"You've got no way out of this, Gareth," Rick said after the shock started to wear off. He inspected his side, seeing that it was just a flesh wound, and he pulled in a painful breath and kept talking. "You said yourself, without Noah things change. Our boys have this place surrounded. You're not walking outta here."

"Shut up," Gareth yelled. "Toss your gun over here." He darted for the front window, keeping his pistol trained on Rick and dropped down to the floor to peer outside at the police presence surrounding him. "News crews are here. Hope your families aren't watching guys."

…

" _We heard a shot inside_ ," Sasha texted Glenn. She had been keeping him up to date while she waited in the ambulance, praying she wouldn't be needed. Glenn swallowed hard, wondering whether he should relay this last piece yet, but his face had already given him away.

The table was staring at him, Michonne looking especially fierce as she silently demanded he read the text. "They heard a shot but she doesn't know anything yet." He glanced back down at the phone as it vibrated again. "She said they're closing ranks, getting ready to go in."

Michonne switched her focus back to the television that had just recently started to report on the event. The reporters were a safe distance away, so she couldn't see anything and of course they were just repeating the small amount of info they had on a loop, keeping people glued to their screens. She squinted hard, searching the background shot which was an aerial taken from the news chopper. She knew she wouldn't be able to pick Rick out from the tiny figures that were moving on the screen, but she had to try. She sunk down into a seat, finally accepting that she would be finding out Rick's fate with everyone else, as the other bar patrons were now fully engaged in the broadcast.

She felt Maggie's hand come to her shoulder and she reached behind her, covering it with her own, trying to take comfort in not being alone.

…

Rick kept his hands pressed firmly into his side, trying both to manage the blood flow and to keep the sight of his wound from Noah. He considered radioing to Daryl, to let him know he was ok, but it was too late. Things would be set in motion as soon as they heard the shot.

If Gareth could see them preparing, he wasn't reacting to it. Rick surmised they had probably moved their operation out of the window's sightline. His gaze bounced from window to window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the response unit so he could keep Noah out of the fray when they arrived. He tried again, unsuccessfully, to give the boy a reassuring look, but Noah had been frozen to his seat since Gareth had fired at Rick.

He spied his gun on the floor next to Gareth, keeping track of its location in case the opportunity presented itself to gain the upper hand. He strained his ears, listening for his backup approaching, though he knew they were well trained and wouldn't give their position away. Rick had resigned himself to submitting to the surprise approach when he heard an almost imperceptible click of a doorknob from the kitchen behind them. Gareth still had his eyes on the window in front, though his gun remained pointed at Rick, and he used the opportunity to motion with his head for Noah to get down. Through his fear ridden eyes, Noah understood the signal and slumped low on the couch, bringing his hands over his head.

"Freeze!" Daryl said, as he stepped stealthily into the room and aimed his gun at Gareth's head. Rick could hear other officers rushing both entrances and he lunged for Noah, forgetting briefly about his hold on his wound. He grabbed him by the shirt, shoving the kid behind him.

"Run out the back," Rick told him. "Hostage is coming out the back, hold your fire," he yelled to the men in the next room. He saw Lamson wrap an arm around Noah and rush him out of the house.

Gareth and Daryl squared off, each pointing their weapon at the other. "This is where you drop your gun, asshole."

Gareth's face dropped, but his gun remained steadily pointed at Daryl, not willing to give up his final stand yet.

Rick could see two more deputies at the now open front door and he stooped to retrieve his weapon from the floor. He wrapped his left hand around his ribs, using his right to lift his gun at Gareth, and stalked toward the man. The adrenaline of the operation was peaking and, with Noah out of the room, he could feel something clawing at him from inside. That fire that burned in his chest sometimes was making its way to his face. He tipped his head to the side and snarled at Gareth, baring his teeth and the instinct to end him that he was working to suppress.

The two deputies pushed into the living room, their eyes passing between Rick and Gareth. They recognized the look on Rick's face and they were all staring at him now.

"Rick," Daryl said quietly, as he inched his way around to Gareth's back. Gareth's gun circled Daryl's, but his eyes were on Rick.

Rick continued to stare at the man who had infiltrated their community, ruining life after life for the past few months with no sign of remorse. He could feel the blood running from the bullet hole in his side, where Gareth had shot him, and he knew the man had every intention of shooting Noah as well, if their team had been unsuccessful.

Daryl arrived behind Gareth and pressed his own gun to the man's back, securing him. Finally admitting defeat, Gareth's lips turned upwards into a smug smile as he raised his hands and let the pistol drop to the ground. Daryl quickly stepped forward, kicking the gun out of reach and pulling Gareth's arms behind his back. He glanced up at his partner. "He's done," he said, shoving Gareth forward just a bit to illustrate the effectiveness of the cuffs. "He's done, Rick, put it down so we can go home. You can go home to Carl, to Michonne, just like you said you would."

The sound of their names was like a soothing caress, wiping away the tension from his face. His eyes slipped closed and he felt the burning give way to a pull in his chest that begged him to go and see his family. He looked at Daryl once more before slowly lowering his gun. "I'm good," he said, nodding his head and returning his gun to his hip. "I'm good."

…

" _The standoff appears to be over as_ _we can see two officers, and what appears to be the suspect, exiting the home,"_ said the blonde haired woman from channel 8 who had been keeping them up to date since Sasha's texts stopped.

Michonne brought her hands to her mouth, daring a glance at Abraham. His thick, mustachioed lips curled into a grin, finally letting out a breath he seemed to have been holding since they first watched the sirens fly by the window. He gave her a nod.

" _We can see one deputy appears to be injured,"_ the reporter said, gesturing to the scene behind her. They couldn't make out anyone from the place the camera's were rolling, but they all knew Rick was the one who was inside.

"They're walking out," Glenn noted, locking eyes with Maggie. "That's a good sign."

She nodded, relieved at what she was watching unfold on the screen.

"Didn't I tell you all we do is give these boys rides downtown," Abraham laughed, pointing to the ambulance that they could see flashing a bright red and white behind the reporter. "Come on, sweetheart." He gestured to Michonne to follow him. "I'll give you a ride."

Michonne quickly gathered her coat and purse then turned to embrace Maggie. When she looked up, she met Rosita's eyes, noticing small tears gathering at her lids. She gave Michonne a smile, then quickly turned away, hiding her expression. "Come on," Michonne said, grabbing Rosita's hand and pulling her in their direction. She grabbed her own coat and held onto Michonne's hand, hurrying after Abraham.

…

"I can't believe we beat 'em here," Abraham said, as they pushed through the doors of the Emergency Room waiting area. "I'm going to have to send Sasha back to driving school."

Michonne and Rosita stepped to the side, keeping watch on the door while Abraham took a seat in one of the tan, plastic chairs. He turned his eyes to the television to see if the reporting was still live and let out a loud guffaw when he saw Mayor Monroe in front of a line of microphones, fielding questions from the reporters. "What'd I tell ya?" he laughed to himself.

Michonne glanced over her shoulder at her boss on the small T.V., and joined in Abe's amusement. She had to admit, he called it.

"Hey!" Michonne heard Rosita yell, sparking her attention. She turned to see her friend rushing toward the door just as Daryl and Bob walked through. Michonne couldn't help her expression when Rosita jumped into the normally reserved man's arms and he lifted her from the ground, pressing his mouth to hers.

She reluctantly tore her wide eyes away from the two and reached for Bob's arm. "Where's Rick?"

Sasha's boyfriend looked at her with kind eyes and a big smile. "He was fighting with Sasha about not riding in on the gurney, he'll probably be walking in any minute."

He had barely finished his sentence when Michonne stepped past him, her hands coming to her mouth as she watched Rick walking stiffly through the door, his uniform covered in blood.

Rick spotted Michonne as soon as he walked in and he headed straight for her. The tears she had been holding in all night began pouring from her eyes as he cupped her face. "Hey. Shhhh. It's ok," he soothed. She went to hug him, but he flinched away. "I'm kind of a mess," he said, looking down at his red stained shirt.

"He's got a couple broken ribs and a bullet in his side," Sasha said. She had walked in behind Rick, and Michonne finally realized her presence. She turned to look at her friend with wide eyes, then back at Rick.

"He shot you?" Michonne exclaimed.

"It's nothing. The ribs hurt worse." He leaned in, unsteadily, to kiss her, his hands still holding her face as he brushed his lips slowly against hers. When he pulled away, she could hear the rasp in the breaths he was taking.

"You need to go get looked at," she said, wiping at her watering eyes. She wrapped an arm around his waist and carefully turned him toward the check in.

"Come with me," he said.

"I'm not going anywhere."

…

"I talked to your mom," Michonne said, as she came back into the tiny area, encircled by a curtain, where Rick was laying on the bed in a clean t-shirt and gym shorts. Daryl had retrieved a bag he kept stashed in their cruiser and dropped it off, as well as a few other items for the night, and they were settling in the recovery area, waiting for Rick to get a room. "She and Carl are going to come first thing in the morning."

"They don't need to do that. I'll be home by the afternoon."

"I told her, but they didn't want to wait. She was going to come now, but I talked her out of it." She handed him a package of cookies from the vending machine and he opened them, offering her one. "A few more hours till breakfast," she said, glancing at his watch. "Then you can get some real food."

"I just want to sleep. I wish they'd hurry up and move me to a room or let me go home."

"You can't go home, Rick. They want to keep an eye on you until morning."

"You can keep an eye on me," he said, covering a large yawn.

"Go ahead and rest," she said. "I'll keep an eye on you here."

He pushed himself over on the small mattress, taking advantage of the painkillers the hospital had prescribed, to lean slightly on his side. Patting the mattress beside him, he gestured with his head for her to join him.

She hesitated slightly, not wanting to hurt him by settling into his space, but she couldn't resist being as close as possible to him right now. She squeezed onto the edge, laying her head beside him on the pillow. "I'm so glad you're ok," she whispered.

Rick wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing his lips to her head and speaking into her hair. "I had to go in there. You know that, right?"

"I know," she replied. She nuzzled her face into his neck, relishing in the natural scent he wore after a long day.

"It wasn't that I didn't hear what you said...about being careful. I thought of you, of that promise, the whole time...but that was something I had to do."

Michonne pulled out of his embrace and propped herself on her elbow to look him in the eye. She brought her fingers to his face, lightly stroking his growing five o'clock shadow. "I know, Rick. I was worried sick listening to it all go down, then watching it on television, but I never doubted you were doing what had to be done."

He nodded, feeling his heavy lids start to moisten at the thought of her worrying over him, not knowing if he was alright. He wanted to apologize, promise her it wouldn't happen again, but he knew he couldn't make that kind of pledge. His mind bounced around, trying to think of the right words, as her fingers traced circles on his chest.

"Rick," she said suddenly, breaking the silence he had fallen into. "We need to talk about something."

"What?" he asked, feeling his heart clench at her serious tone.

"Did you see Daryl and Rosita in the waiting room?" she asked excitedly, her eyes opening wide.

He laughed heartily, testing the limit of the drugs that were comforting his ribs, and pulled her back under his arm. "I missed it," he said with a tired grin. "Tell me." He let his head fall back against the pillow and closed his eyes as he listened to her gush about the exchange she had witnessed, her sweet voice and soft breaths lulling him into a well deserved sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

He forgot where he was for a moment. The fluorescent lights, the distant beeping, he knew he was in the hospital, but he forgot the why and the when. His head was foggy and he knew he had only been asleep for a couple hours at most. Hours, not weeks. This was different, a different time. He forced his vision to clear searching for confirmation, and he looked to his right, spotting Michonne curled in a ball in a stiff, faux leather chair, sound asleep. She was still there. It came back to him, then in a rush of relief. He was shot, again. In the hospital, again. He wasn't alone this time, though. She was there.

A soft knocking on the door roused Michonne from her sleep and she lifted her head and smiled at him, unaware of his momentary panic. He looked groggy, propped into an equally uncomfortable position of near sitting, to keep the pressure from his ribs. She held her hand up to urge him not to move and let out a big yawn as she shuffled to the door. She opened it just slightly, peeking her head around to keep the bright light in the hallway from disturbing him further. Realizing it was morning, she was expecting to see a nurse arriving to do another check of Rick's vital signs, but instead she was greeted by a tall man wearing a dark brown suit and a white doctor's coat over it.

"Good morning," he whispered, unsure if Rick was awake. "I was hoping to speak with Deputy Grimes. I'm Dr. Wilkes."

"Michonne," she replied, offering her hand to the man. He shook it enthusiastically, beaming a large smile at her. "Are you his physician?"

"Nice to meet you, Michonne. Actually, Deputy Grimes saved my son's life last night. I wanted to come and express my gratitude." The man looked over her shoulder at Rick who was reaching for the light near his bed. "I can come back…"

"No, it's ok," Rick said from his bed. "Come on in."

Michonne went to the window to pull back the curtains and allow some sunshine in as Dr. Wilkes crossed the room, extending his hand to Rick with a large grin. "Deputy, I spoke to your partner last night, while you were being treated for your wound. I wanted to come back first thing this morning to thank you."

"I'm just glad we were there," Rick said, shaking the man's hand. "How is Noah?"

"He's just fine. He's at home with his mother, but he wanted me to give his thanks as well. They told me the bullet went straight through," he said, gesturing to Rick's bandage. His eyes scanned Rick's bare torso, stopping at the large, ragged scar on his chest. "Looks like you were luckier this time around."

"I'm feeling pretty lucky these days," he answered, looking at Michonne.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer," he said, realizing the two had probably been up most of the night. "If there is anything you need while you are here, you just tell them to ask for me and I'll make sure it gets done."

"Thank you," Michonne answered, standing to walk to the door with him.

"Take care, Rick," he said over his shoulder before opening the door. He stepped into the hallway, only to be nearly bowled over by Carl who was hurriedly turning the corner toward the room.

"Sorry, sir," Carl said, as he pushed through the doorway. "Dad!" He rushed over to the bed and threw his arms around Rick's shoulders.

"Carl," Rick said, his voice tinged with pain, but holding him tightly anyway. "I'm glad you came."

Dr. Wilkes was lingering in the doorway, watching the young boy. "Your dad's an impressive man, son," he said. "I hope you know that."

"I do, sir," Carl said, standing up straight to face him.

Rebeccah came around the corner then, holding a large vase of flowers, and a couple of brown takeout bags and smiling at Dr. Wilkes as he left. "We brought ya'll some breakfast," she said, handing the bags to Michonne. "Did you get any sleep?"

Michonne glanced at Rick and she could see his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open. "He's only had a couple hours," she answered, sending him a sympathetic smile.

"We won't stay," Rebeccah said, as she arranged the flowers beside his bed. "Carl really wanted to see you." She smiled at her son, then turned to Michonne, crossing the room to hug her tightly. "And you."

"I can't believe you got shot again, Dad," Carl said, shaking his head. He climbed up onto the foot of Rick's bed, letting his legs hang over the side. "Daryl said you're like a good luck charm, 'cause as long as you're around all the bad guys aim for you."

Rick laughed, holding tightly to his side. "I'm glad I could help him out."

"Listen, don't worry about Carl, he can stay with me as long as you need." Rebeccah said.

Rick looked over at his son with a smile. "Actually, mom, I'd like for him to be home. He was pretty good company last time...if that's ok with you, Carl."

"Yeah, definitely! Michonne, are you staying?"

"I will stay and help," she assured Rebeccah.

Rebeccah looked at her son, then back to Michonne, a smile gracing her face as she took them all in. "Alright, then, Michonne can call us when you're being released and I'll bring him home. Carl, let's go for now. Let your father get some sleep."

She said goodbye to Rick, then turned back to Michonne, pulling her into another embrace. "Thank you, sweetheart. For everything." She gathered Carl, making a quick exit.

Closing the door behind them, Michonne walked to the window, pulling the thick drapes closed again. Rick had already settled back into his pillow, his eyes closing on their own. She had managed to darken the place again when yet another knock had him groaning loudly. "It's like Grand Central Station around here."

"I'll tell whoever it is to come back later," she said. "Close your eyes."

She opened the door with the intention of politely sending away the guest, but stopped short when she saw Hershel standing behind the door in a white shirt and suspenders, looking as if he'd been up and out for hours. She smiled, knowing this was one visit Rick wouldn't want to miss.

Hershel eyed her curiously, his blue eyes swimming with mirth. "Michonne," he said, noting her bare feet and wrinkled top that alluded to her overnight stay. He glanced toward Rick, clearly unaware of their relationship and enjoying the realization. "I didn't expect to see you here. I'll have to speak to my daughters for keeping me out of the loop."

Rick heard Michonne laugh and his eyes fluttered open again. He squinted through the darkened room to spot his guest. "Hershel," he said, his voice raspy from exhaustion. "How are you?"

"I came to ask you that," the old man smirked, entering the room and offering Rick a firm handshake. "Your mother told me what happened and, I hope I'm not intruding, but I wanted to come by and see you with my own eyes."

Rick nodded, understanding that Hershel had expected a different scene when he arrived at his bedside. The last time they spoke candidly, Rick had hinted that he had wanted to be back here, maybe even tried for it. He realized his friend thought he was coming here today to see a man who had finally broken down.

Michonne could see the two men were dancing around something. She sensed it was important to Rick to say whatever was hanging between them and she wanted to give them space to speak freely.

"I'm going to get some coffee," she announced, breaking the silence that had settled over them. She slipped on the heels she had been wearing the night before, and gathered her purse. She bent to kiss Rick's forehead, gifting him one last smile before heading out the door. "I'll be back in a bit," she promised.

Rick followed her with his eyes until he saw the door close behind her and felt Hershel settle into the chair beside him. "I know what you're thinkin'" Rick started.

"No," Hershel stopped him with a raised hand. "You know what I was thinking before I came here. Now I'm thinking something else."

Rick met Hershel's twinkling eyes with a mixture of both relief and anticipation in his own. "I'm ok," he said to Hershel and out into the universe.

"I know you are, Rick. I can see it plain as day on your face." Hershel let the statement simmer for a moment, each adjusting to the shift in mood. "How long have I been in the dark on this?" he said with a small chuckle.

"Couple months now," Rick answered, suddenly feeling diffident in Hershel's company. "This is...this is different." He nervously ran his thumb along his brow, feeling like a kid confessing a first love to his old man, looking for validation for emotions he wasn't sure he could understand. Hershel was his mentor, his paternal surrogate and sitting before him, trying to find the words to describe the way he felt about Michonne, he realized he didn't comprehend it at all. He'd never known this type of love, never felt so bolstered by a relationship.

Hershel nodded, somehow understanding everything Rick couldn't find the words to say. "I can see the change in you, son. When I came here I wasn't sure what I was going to find. I was afraid I'd find you here of your own doing, but I couldn't be happier to be wrong. You came back, Rick. We get to come back."

Rick bobbed his head, emotion stealing his words. He had come back. The truth was, if he hadn't met Michonne, he could very well be here under different circumstances. He was headed down a path he may not have been able to return from, but she showed him there was more to life than pain and struggle.

"You know," Rick said, "I used to think all these things that happened to me: getting shot, Lori leaving me, they were roadblocks set in the way of me being happy, keeping me from where I was trying to go. I see now all those things, those events, they weren't obstacles in the road, they were the guard rail. It does some damage when you run into it, hurts like hell, but it keeps you on the road. Keeps you where you're supposed to be. I'm supposed to be here with her. She saved me."

Hershel smiled, impressed with the hopeful man he saw before him and, by way of the change he saw in Rick, impressed with Michonne as well. "You've never needed saving, Rick," he said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "You just needed someone to give you a reason to save yourself."

The two sat in companionable silence for a few moments, reflecting on all that had transpired, until they heard Michonne's heels clicking on the tile floor of the corridor. She swung the door open and tentatively stepped back inside, hoping she had given them enough time to say what needed to be said. As soon as she stepped in she could feel the room was lighter, both men wearing the kind of comfortable smile that came from the air being cleared. She exhaled happily and came to stand beside them.

"I brought doughnuts," she announced, holding a bakery box in front of her.

Rick laughed, "I'd think that was a cop joke if I didn't know how much you loved sugar."

"No joke, Deputy. The pickings were slim, we'll need to get you something healthier when we get home."

Rick didn't miss the way she'd said home, as if wherever they were together defined the word, and his heart swelled inside his bruised chest. He reached a hand out to take one of the treats she was handing him, his eyes glued to her face.

She offered one to Hershel but he declined, watching Rick watch her. "I think I've seen what I needed to see," he said. "Rick, rest, get well." He glanced between the two of them, smiling. "It can be like this all the time," he said, giving Rick a reassuring nod.

"It's like this now," Rick replied. "That's enough."

"I'm proud of you, son. We all are." Hershel shook Rick's hand then turned to Michonne with a wide grin. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again, young lady. I look forward to it."

"Me too," she replied genuinely, though still a little confused as to the nature of the conversation she'd missed.

Hershel gathered the coat he had been carrying and made his way out the door, making sure to shut it behind him.

"You good?" she asked Rick, eyeing his pensive expression.

"I'm good. I need to get some sleep, though. Will you stay?" he asked, his eyes imploring her.

"Yeah, Rick," she answered, leaning in to cup his face. "I'll be right here."

…

"Are you sure you're ok taking the bus?" Michonne asked as she handed Carl his backpack and lunch. "I know your dad usually drives you and I really don't mind giving you a ride."

"No, it's cool. Just enjoy your last few minutes before he wakes up," Carl laughed.

"He hasn't been that bad," she forced herself to say. The truth was Rick was a terrible patient and she and Carl had spent the entire weekend insisting that he rest, while he found every reason he could to be off the couch.

"Sure," Carl smiled at her distortion of the truth. "Good luck today." He reached up to hug her, taking her by surprise. "Thanks for being here."

"You're welcome, Carl," she said, hugging him back. "There is nowhere I would rather be."

Carl hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and headed out to the end of the driveway just as the bus pulled to a stop. She watched with a big grin as he waved to her before climbing aboard. When he was out of sight she made her way back into the bedroom to find that Rick was, once again, not resting. She spotted him standing at the sink in the master bathroom, tugging at the tape on his bandage.

"What are you doing?" she inquired, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning on the doorframe.

"I was going to take a shower. They said 48 hours."

"Ok, then ask for help. That's why I took the day off...to _help_ you."

He turned to her with a grin. "Will you help me take a shower, please?"

"I will," she smiled, turning to collect a towel while he gingerly removed the gauze from his side. She turned the lever to the shower and held a hand under the spray, waiting for the temperature to rise. Glancing back at Rick, she noticed him leaning against the counter for support, every breath still causing him pain. "Let me get that plastic chair from Carl's desk."

"I can stand," he said. Noticing her watching him. he deliberately straightened.

"Or, you could sit," she replied with a smile that told him it wasn't up for debate. She returned a minute later with a plastic folding chair, and slid it into the shower stall, facing away from the spray.

Rick finished undressing, slipping his pajama pants and boxers off in one motion, leaving them in a pile on the floor, then stepped into the shower.

"Sit down and tip your head back," she instructed, watching to make sure he complied. When he was seated, she slipped off the t shirt and pants she was wearing, bending at the waist, to tie her hair into a bun. She secured it with a few locs, then joined him beneath the warm spray.

"It's not fair you standing behind me naked, knowing I can't turn around," he said, tipping his head back as far as he could to get a glimpse of her.

"Shouldn't be a problem since we are only here to get you clean," she replied, grabbing two fistfuls of his hair and pulling at his curls until they were all drenched. She grabbed the blue bottle of men's dual purpose shampoo and bodywash that sat on the shelf, crowded by the multiple bottles she used to complete the same job. She snickered to herself as she poured the clear liquid into her hands and worked it into a lather.

"What's so funny back there?" he asked, craning his neck again.

"Men have it so easy," she mused as she began massaging the soap into his hair. "What did this bottle cost? Five bucks?"

"Something like that," he sighed, as his eyes rolled back and he succumbed to her ministrations with a quiet moan.

"Good?"

"Very good. You know, I'm actually feeling much better. I think I can ditch the couch today and get back in bed where you can join me."

"That's not going to happen," she said, pouring more of the soap onto a washcloth and squeezing it until foamy bubbles appeared. She worked the cloth up and down the back of his neck and over his broad shoulders, taking a moment to inhale the familiar scent she had come to associate with him. Concentrated and permeating the steam of the shower, his essence was invading all of her senses.

"You know, sex wasn't on the list of prohibited activities," he said leaning forward carefully to allow her to go further down his back.

"Neither was horseback riding. Some things are so obvious they don't think they need to write them down for you." She moved to his front, gently cupping the back of his head and tipping his face under the stream. "You can barely make it from the couch to the kitchen without wheezing in pain."

"I'm fine laying down," he smirked once she had massaged the soap over his face and rinsed him clean.

She laughed, wringing the cloth and squeezing some more bubbles out of it, before moving to his chest. She paused for a moment, eyeing the purple and red bruise that spanned his entire right side. "Look at you," she said with a pained expression.

"I'm looking at you right now," he drawled, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her between his knees. He pressed his lips to her wet stomach, letting his tongue break free to catch the little droplets of water streaming down her skin.

"Stop distracting me," she said half-heartedly. She wiggled free from his grip and continued working the soap on his pecs, carefully brushing just below them where the bruising started. "You know, maybe if you had been good and rested all weekend like I told you to, I might believe you were feeling better."

"I can't sit on that couch all day, Michonne," he said with a tiny pout that she couldn't help but find adorably out of place on his strong face. He reached around her again, palming her ass and pulling her back in.

"OK, ok," she giggled. "Stop for a minute." She stooped down to her knee so she was eye level with the place just above his hip, where his body had been pierced and repaired so recently. She rested her arm on his leg for balance and squeezed the cloth in her fist, letting soapy water stream over his side. Gently washing the area, she watched as his stomach muscles tensed around her touch and she slowed her movements even more. She cupped her hands, letting clean water fill her palms, and gently rinsed. When she was done, she dipped her head, pressing a light kiss just above his wound.

She looked up from her task to catch a glimpse of his growing excitement. "Really, Rick?" she asked, shaking her head at him.

"I told you I was feeling better," he shrugged.

"Come on, Romeo. Let's dry you off." Michonne stepped out of the shower, offering him her hand while he eased out of the chair. She wrapped a towel around herself, then grabbed another, using it to wipe the water from his shoulders and down his arms. When she came around to his front he wrapped his arms around her, dropping his face to her shoulder, languidly running his tongue along her skin. "Rick, please just rest," she breathed out, trying to maintain her defenses.

"You can't blame me for tryin'," he sighed, kissing her one more time on the lips.

Gently freeing herself from his embrace, she handed him the towel to finish drying, and found the box of dressing supplies the nurses had sent home from the hospital. "Come on," she said, leading him to the bed and finding a new pair of pajama pants in his drawer. She watched as he sat down, carefully lifting his hips to slide the clothes on.

She sat on the bed beside him, gathering the items she needed to rebandage his side, and waited while he found a comfortable position to lay in. "Thanks for being here," he said while she unwrapped a clean bandage and tore off pieces of white medical tape.

"Carl said the same thing," she smiled, as she leaned across him, her eyes focused on his side as she worked. "I told him I wouldn't be anywhere else."

"I know you wouldn't," he nodded, trying not to flinch as she smoothed the bandage across his skin. She carefully secured the edges with tape and collected the paper she had discarded, setting it on the bedside table.

"There!" she said, pleased with her work. "All done." She started to get up but Rick reached out, grabbing her hand and pulling her down beside him. He looked at her with a mixture of lust and adoration beaming from his intense eyes as he slowly ran his tongue over his parted lips.

"This isn't a good idea," she whispered as he threaded his hand through the folds of the towel she was still wearing.

"You don't sound so sure of that," he said, rolling over slightly to kiss her neck.

"You're being very convincing." Letting him continue to work his way along her body, she wondered if she was being selfish for not putting up more of a fight. She should get up, make him rest, but she missed his touch too.

He was laying completely on his uninjured side now and, besides the shallow breaths he continued to need, he did seem ok. His hands were leisurely roaming under her towel and his mouth was attempting to mark every spot from her neck to her shoulder.

She watched him slide his pants down, allowing her to see just how serious he was and she began to wonder how far he was really going to take this in the state he was in. She didn't have to wonder long, as he wrapped an arm around her, rolling her over and pulling her backside flush against his body.

"Are you sure you're going to be able to do this?" she asked, when she felt him pushing against her, begging to be let in.

"Is that a challenge?" he laughed, his hand reaching around to find the spot he hoped would put an end to any opposition. "I'll go real slow, I promise."

Sighing in pleasure and defeat, she looked over her shoulder at his face, searching for signs of pain, but his eyes were registering the opposite. She lifted her top leg, tilting her hips up just enough to grant his wish.

Rick let out a strangled groan as he entered her, his body taking over for his brain. As long as he kept his upper body still, this was perfectly fine he thought, as he established a rhythm with his hips. He snaked his bottom arm around her waist and applied more pressure to persuade her to move against him. She complied, meeting him halfway with each thrust.

The work he was doing with his other hand had her quickly approaching the edge and she was thankful for the short duration of this session she never should have agreed to. She grasped the pillow under her head trying to channel the force of her climax away from his bruised body and did her best to keep her hips from bucking into his as she went over the edge.

"Are you ok?" she asked with heavy breaths, coming down from her high. He didn't answer and she tried to look back at him again, but he had his face buried in her hair. Feeling her come undone around him had him all of a sudden frustrated with his lack of mobility and, taking his lack of pain thus far as encouragement, he grasped her shoulder, pulling her onto her back so he could move above her. "Rick," she warned, watching the pleasure on his face begin to war with the exertion he was putting forth.

He supported himself with his left arm, his right cradling his side as he rejoined with her. A few strong thrusts and he let go, a string of expletives she wasn't used to hearing tumbling from his mouth. His head fell to her shoulder as the arm that bore his weight began to tremble. She listened to him curse at each deep breath he was forced to pull in and she scrambled out from under him, quickly wrapping her arm under his chest to help him sit up.

"Rick! I told you this would happen," Michonne growled, immediately exchanging the glow he had given her for a glare.

"I believe you said I wouldn't be able to do it," he joked through gritted teeth.

"I can't even believe you convinced me to try." She fluffed a couple of pillows and helped him lay backward against them, his face contorting in pain.

Michonne stood from the bed and grabbed a t-shirt from his dresser, pulling it over her head. 'It'll be fine 'Chonne," she said mocking his drawl. "'I'll just go real slow.' If you weren't already injured, I swear..."

"Ok, ok. I pushed it," he interrupted, trying to catch his breath. "I pushed it." He flashed her a contrite smile and she came back to the bed, crawling on her hands and knees to sit beside him in a huff.

"I'm here to help you recover, not to help you make yourself worse," she said, staring down at her nails and avoiding his eyes.

"I'm sorry, look." He finally gained control and pulled in a full breath with only a slight wince. "I'm ok." He reaching over to tip her chin up and smile at her with his shimmering blue eyes. "You know, the last time I was shot I spent most of my recovery time with Daryl, after Lori left. I'm gonna take advantage of havin' such a beautiful nurse this time around."

"Alright," she said, waving a hand at him and trying not to find him adorable. "But no more. If I'm your nurse you have to listen to me. I'm going to get you an ice pack." She stood to make her way to the kitchen and he followed her with his eyes.

"'Chonne?"

"Yeah?"

She turned back to look at him, and he smiled at her sheepishly. "Can you bring my pain meds?"

"Mmm hmm," she hummed, muttering something under her breath as she walked away.

…

"Hey!" Andrea called when she spotted Michonne ahead of her on the sidewalk. She turned, slowing to a stop to let her catch up. "I thought you were taking the day off to take care of Rick."

"I am, I just needed to come into the office to get my laptop and some other stuff I left here Friday."

"How's he doing?" Andrea asked falling into step with her friend.

"He's in some pain, but he's going to be fine if he rests," Michonne said, still slightly irritated at the way the morning had transpired. She had decided the only way to convince him to sleep was to leave for a little while, so she had put him on the couch with the remote and an ice pack and made her way into town to run some errands.

"Men are insufferably macho when it comes to these things," Andrea laughed. "You're a better woman than me. Let me guess, he's fine, doesn't need to do what the doctors told him, he doesn't need to take it easy."

"That about sums up the weekend," Michonne sighed.

"Well, I'm glad he and Dixon are ok. I can't believe everything I missed. Lot of action for this little town," Andrea mused, as they walked along.

"Speaking of action," Michonne said, remembering Rosita's comments at the bar before their evening had taken a wild turn. "How was the conference? Did you and Shane get any time to explore the city?"

Andrea's mouth dropped open and she stared at Michonne, clearly flustered. She was sure they had gotten away with their secret trip.

"For all of the crap you and Rosita gave me for not realizing how I felt about Rick, you two really need to figure out what you're both so afraid of when it comes to your own relationships." Michonne stopped when they reached the sidewalk leading to their two neighboring offices, and looked at her oldest friend with a raised eyebrow.

Andrea stared back, amused at being called out. "Ah, the student becomes the teacher, I see," she joked. "Alright, listen, walk with me into the courthouse so I can pick up a few files, and I'll spill the details." Michonne eyed her suspiciously. "The non-sexual ones," Andrea sighed.

The two made their way up the stone steps into the looming building and took the hallway to their right to head to the District Court Clerk's window, all the while chatting about Andrea and Shane's sight seeing trips and romantic dinners in the city.

"It's just...he's sweeter than he comes off," Andrea said as they stepped up to the first window where an older, grey haired woman was working. Michonne stepped aside, pulling out her phone to check for any texts from Rick, as Andrea spoke to the clerk. As she listened to the women chat, she heard the click of heels on the old tile floor and looked up to see Lori making her way through the velvet rope that marked a path to the window where Andrea stood.

Lori made eye contact with Andrea first, forcing a polite smile, then turned to see Michonne standing nearby.

"What are you doing back in town?" Andrea asked her, skipping a formal greeting.

"I have some paperwork to file," Lori answered, avoiding her eyes. Michonne had already filled Andrea in on the letter Rick received from Lori's lawyer, and she didn't waste any time drawing her conclusions as to the nature of Lori's business at the courthouse.

"You're still going ahead with that?" Andrea scoffed, turning over her shoulder to Michonne with an incredulous look.

"Andrea, you don't know the first thing about it." Lori said, turning away.

"I just mean you can't expect to win now, with everything that happened..."

Lori looked confused so Andrea scanned the small line of chairs against the wall, kept in the unlikely event of a wait for the office. Her eyes fell on a newspaper and she crossed the small room to grab it. "Look at this," she said, holding up the front page where a picture of Rick in his uniform took up most of the top half. "He's everybody's hero again. You think a judge is going to take his kid away while they're pinning another medal on him."

"Is that Deputy Grimes?" the clerk asked, pulling her pink rimmed glasses off of her head and stretching through the window to see the picture. "We were just talking about him! Hero is right, what a thing he did!"

Michonne couldn't help but roll her eyes at the woman's praise. It was clear to her how fickle this town was with their affections, as she imagined this was the type of gossip that was just recently revolving around Rick's mental health. They were okay with him putting his life on the line for them, though.

Lori took the newspaper from Andrea, reading the headline out loud. "Local Deputy recovering from wounds sustained rescuing hostage, taking down drug ring." Her eyes shot past Andrea and settled on Michonne. "Is he ok?" she asked.

Genuine concern clouded the aloof expression she was used to from Lori, and Michonne felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. "He's going to be," she answered.

Lori looked down at the envelope in her hand, running a hand over her face.

"Why are you doing this Lori?" Michonne heard herself say. She hadn't intended on engaging Rick's ex-wife in a conversation, especially not about this, but she could see the uncertainty in the woman's eyes, and she really wanted to understand.

Lori sighed, glancing once more at Andrea who was being much less gracious with her facial expression. She took a step out of the line and came to stand in front of Michonne. "I don't hate him," she said, her expression earnest. "Not even close. It's important to me that you know that."

"Why?" Michonne asked.

"So you're not always wondering if there's another side to the story. Wondering what he might have done wrong and waiting for it to happen again." She tipped her head to the ceiling, focusing on keeping her composure as she continued. "He didn't do anything wrong. He was a good husband. He's just not supposed to be mine," she shrugged, as tears started to rim her eyes.

Michonne took a deep breath, feeling her own tears for the situation starting to build. "Then why do this to him?" she said softly, "Use his pain against him to take his son? You know it will crush him."

"He's my son, too," she said, her tone finding a sharper edge than her reticent demeanor. "And Philip...he thinks it's important that Carl grow up in the same house as our daughter." She paused for a moment, her face turning somber. She ran a hand over her stomach, keeping her gaze over Michonne's shoulder. "I'm done having kids," she said wistfully, "but Philip always wanted a big family."

"Philip," Michonne repeated, understanding whose motivation was driving this. It was becoming clear to her that Lori wasn't the type of woman who made her own decisions. That's probably why she was drawn to Rick in the first place. He's strong, capable, a provider and protector, but it was also likely why Phillip could so easily sway her, like a branch in the wind. Michonne couldn't relate to that type of existence. She had never been afraid to speak her mind, or stand up for what she thought was right, but she did know what it was like to question yourself and of course, she'd been wrong before when it mattered. "What do _you_ want, Lori?" she asked. "This is between you and Rick. No one else. You know he wouldn't keep Carl from you. He's proved that. Is this really how you want to bring your son back into your life?"

Lori wrapped her arms around herself, blinking a few tears free. She looked Michonne up and down, squinting as if she was looking at something that she didn't recognize. She knew her ex-husband so well, even if she wasn't in love with him anymore. She still cared about him and she felt a strange mixture of melancholy and relief that he had likely met his match in this woman before her. She was someone who could love him without needing him, who could admire his strength from beside him, instead of behind him. She could never be that for him, even if she had wanted to.

"Please take care of him," she said, finding Michonne's eyes again. "I think you're supposed to." She stuffed the envelope in her purse and walked determinedly out the door.

…

Rick was finally giving in to the exhaustion of constant pain and the limits he had tested that morning. He lay on his uninjured side on the couch, watching a movie he had seen many times before. He heard the door open, wonder whether it was Michonne or Carl, but too comfortable to try to sit up and find out. "Hey," he called without moving.

"You're finally resting," Michonne smiled sweetly as she made her way over to him.

"Yup. You win," he said, bending his legs so she could sit down with him. He took in the distant look on her face as she took a seat, worried that she was still irritated at him for the morning. "You get what you needed downtown?"

"Yeah...I did." She reached a hand out to touch him, running her fingers along his leg. "I brought you this." She handed him a rolled up newspaper and watched as he scanned the front page. "Looks like you're the talk of the town again," she said.

He snickered to himself as he scanned the story. "This is nicer than some of the other articles I've been featured in," he sighed, tossing the paper aside.

"I stopped at the courthouse with Andrea while I was in town," she said. "Lori was there."

Rick let out a long breath, dragging his hand down his face. The source of her mood was dawning on him. "She's filing the paperwork?"

"I don't think she will," Michonne said. "I think that's why she was there, but she may have thought better of it."

Rick quirked an eyebrow at her. "Why?"

"Let's just say the gossip is on your side this time," she said, gesturing toward the newspaper.

Rick squinted at her for a few moments before letting out a small chuckle. "So, all I needed to do was get shot again and all my problems go away?"

"That's how they all started, right? Full circle." She gave him a small smile.

"Nah, they started before that. I know that now." He tipped his head up from the pillow, finding her eyes. "And they started going away when I met you."

She reached for his hand and brought it to her lips. "Mine too," she said, settling in beside him.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: You guys, I can't believe this is the last chapter of this fic. I have had so much fun writing this and I have appreciated each and every one of your reviews so much. This fandom has been so kind and welcoming and it's been a blast interacting with all of you along the way. Thank you so much for sticking with me for 31 chapters. When I was about to hit publish on that first chapter, I really had no idea if anyone would even be interested in this. Your support has been so great and I can honestly say this is one of the best things I have done in a long time. I'm completely hooked on you guys and I hope you will keep reading and reviewing. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I love you all.

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Maggie squeezed her way through the rows of chairs, finding the empty one Michonne had been saving for her. "Hey," she whispered. "Wasn't sure I was going to get down here. Deanna had us running around backstage like chickens with our heads cut off. You know how she loves these things. I saw Rick, too. He looked good."

"He is good," Michonne said. Rick had been healing well and was much easier to deal with now that he could be up and about. She had spent the last few weeks keeping Rick on the path to recovery and helping out with Carl, and though she was happy to see him making progress toward getting back to work, she was going to miss spending evenings curled up on his couch, watching movies or playing games with her two favorite men.

Michonne was smiling at the memories, when the crowd began to applaud and Deanna stepped out onto the stage, followed by Rick, Daryl and Sheriff Dion, who took their seats in the row of chairs beside her. She glanced over at Carl, two chairs down from her and he gave her a proud smile that warmed her heart.

Deanna looked poised and primed to address the room full of her constituents and colleagues, genuine pride gracing her face as she looked over at the men beside her. She had called Rick the day he got home from the hospital, to clear the air and reaffirm her confidence that they would someday be able to work together, despite their most recent disagreement. Rick had been gracious, as she knew he would, and maybe even willing to learn something from the political savvy woman. She had definitely learned something from him. They had the same goals, and if they could become allies there was no stopping either of them. Michonne made sure to tell them both she thought so.

Deanna approached the podium, ready to put all of it behind them and give due recognition to the pair she had been sparring with. The crowd applauded as she addressed the room, and once she had achieved her desired response, she began recalling the details of the dangerous men who had put their community at risk and the men who had put their lives on the line to stop them. Her words reflected her gratitude and Michonne knew, after everything that had gone down between her and Rick, she was sincere.

"They are both hating this," Maggie laughed, whispering in Michonne's ear as Deanna recalled the events that lead to Rick getting shot.

Michonne took in the expressions on their faces. Daryl looking like he would rather be back dodging bullets than sitting on that stage, and Rick looking completely unmoved by Deanna's praise. Michonne laughed with Maggie, thinking that Rick was going to have to hide his distaste for public displays a little better if Deanna was right about his future, and Michonne had no reason to doubt that she was.

Michonne listened on halfheartedly as Deanna continued talking. She had already read the speech her boss was giving and she was caught up admiring how handsome Rick looked in his full uniform, and beaming with pride as she watched the room full of people finally give him the credit he deserved.

Through all the second guessing, the harsh criticism and the thanklessness, he never wavered in his duty to this community. He risked his life to protect them because that was who he was, who he fought to continue being through all of the turmoil life had given him. He really had come out on the other side, she thought, finding herself wiping away a tear that threatened to ruin her makeup.

Her attention was beckoned back to the stage when she heard Deanna call Daryl's name and he stood from his chair, crossing the wide wooden floor to take a spot beside the diminutive woman. The room watched as he awkwardly allowed Deanna to place a medal around his neck, saluting like it was his first time attempting the gesture.

"I told him to practice that," Maggie sighed as she clapped. "Guess he didn't listen."

"Now, you may recognize the next Deputy," Deanna said with a bright, politician's smile. "A few months ago I was standing in this same auditorium for our annual event recognizing our public servants of the year, presenting Deputy Rick Grimes with the Medal of Honor. Today I welcome him back again to receive yet another commendation for exemplary service to the citizens of this community."

Rick stood, taking the spot beside his partner as the bright flashes of cameras flickered from the front row of seats. With his piercing blue eyes, sharp jaw, and that bow legged stance that always made him look so nonchalant even when he was standing at attention, he looked every bit the modern day cowboy.

Michonne felt a fluttering begin in her stomach and travel straight downward to her center, while she combed him over with her eyes. Today she was fully admitting to herself that he inspired all sorts of fantasies she never dreamed of having. The cowboy cop thing was a new penchant for her, but since he had already called her out for her attraction to his uniform, she was embracing it. In fact, she thought, she was about ready to accept his continued assurance that he was fully healed and test it out herself in some dark corner backstage.

The crowd applauded again, forcing her back to the moment and causing her to shift uncomfortably at the sudden dampness in her panties. She joined in the assembly's expression of appreciation, bringing her hands above her head in an enthusiastic clap.

Rick focused on Michonne in the audience, holding onto her gaze. He'd done the same thing the last time he was here, searching her out among the sea of faces and keeping her always in his peripheral vision, but this time he didn't need to just sneak glances at her. He could stare into her eyes and tell her everything he was feeling, knowing she felt it too. When all the theater was over he was leaving with her by his side and that, to him, was a bigger measure of success than any award hanging around his neck.

"Are you guys still coming to Morgan's tonight?" Maggie asked, watching her friends dissolve into their own little world, despite being half a room away from each other.

"Yeah," Michonne answered, breaking from her trance. "We'll be there."

"Good. I'm going to go say hi to Rebeccah and Carl," she said, as the crowd started to dissipate with the conclusion of the ceremony.

A handful of people were still milling around the auditorium as Rick and Daryl shook hands with some important looking men and women who had made their way to the stage. Rick was trying his hardest to participate in the conversation, but he kept finding his eyes indulging in their habit of following after Michonne. She was floating around the room, greeting colleagues from her office and chatting with people she recognized from the multiple civic events she attended with Deanna. He watched as whomever she was engaged with invariably looked on with a captivated smile, their eyes never leaving her luminous face.

Michonne was definitely the better half of them when it came to working the room, he mused. Cops, city councilors, business men, she charmed them all. He could walk into a room and command attention when necessary, but she didn't have to command anything, when she was around people poured their attention out in front of her. He was starting to feel a twinge of jealousy for the small group of people that were currently basking in her presence, wishing that he was there to soak her up for himself.

Daryl broke away first, making his way to the floor and leaving Rick to shoot the bull with the brass alone. He figured it was the least Rick could do for getting himself shot and making them go through this dog and pony show. He stopped at Rebeccah and Maggie who were quietly catching up, and accepted an enthusiastic embrace from Rebeccah that he didn't shy away from.

Michonne politely ducked out of the pleasantries she was exchanging and made her way to her friends, hoping Rick would be coming down soon as well. Carl took up residence beside Michonne as she joined them, chatting with her excitedly while they waited for their turn with the man of the hour.

Rick finally found the opportunity to excuse himself from the group, having had enough of the forced conversation and ready to find his family. Michonne waited patiently as he greeted Maggie and his mother, then pushed through toward the spot where she and Carl were standing. He embraced his son, giving him a playful hair ruffle, then turned to her, his eyes registering relief at finally being able to close the distance between them. He reached for her, about to wrap an arm around her waist when they were interrupted.

"Deputy, can I get a picture for the paper?" a tall, lanky man who looked barely out of college, asked eagerly.

"Sure," Rick complied, though Michonne knew he was inwardly groaning. He was playing along though, she had to give him credit. Rick put a hand on Carl's shoulder, tucking him under his arm. Michonne was about to step away when Rick caught her hand, pulling her back toward him. His hand landed on her hip and he pressed her against him so that she was forced to place a hand on his chest to steady herself. "Smile," he whispered, his face inches from hers. She gave him a shy smile and turned toward the camera just as a rapid succession of flashes went off.

"Beautiful family," the young man complimented, as he perused the shots he had taken on the tiny screen of his camera.

"Thank you," Rick answered, winking at Michonne. Her belly was fluttering again and she was feeling pulled toward a quick exit, desperate to be alone with him.

"Wait, stay right there," his mother hollered from a few feet away, pulling her phone out of her purse and holding it at arm's length to try to find the camera.

This time Rick groaned out loud, as the kind reporter helped Rebeccah position her phone and showed her what buttons to press. A smaller flash flickered and she was done with them, turning to capture a photo of Daryl against his will, with Carl pulling away to disrupt the other photo shoot. Rick turned Michonne around in his arms, reaching up to cup her cheek. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" he whispered into her ear.

"It's been a long three weeks?"

"Excrutiating…"

"See ya'll in an hour," Maggie reminded, watching the makings of a no-show materialize on her friends' faces as they embraced. She tapped Michonne on the shoulder, to get her attention.

"Yup...of course."

"Well, we're going to head out," Rebeccah announced, gesturing to Carl who was standing beside her. "I'm going to feed Carl some real food and then we have a weeks old Gin Rummy feud to finish."

"Thanks for taking him tonight," Rick said, letting Michonne go so that he could hug his son one more time.

"Of course! I've been lost without him these last few weeks you've been home." She smiled down at Carl and nodded toward the door indicating it was time to leave. Carl hugged Michonne and gave Daryl a high five before happily following his grandmother for an evening of spoiling he was vastly looking forward to.

"Alright man," Daryl said, turning to Rick. "You heard the party planner. I"ll see you two in an hour. I'm pretty sure you owe me a drink."

Rick tipped his head to his shoulder as he shrugged in concession. He always ended up buying Daryl a drink when they went out, but this time he had earned it. "See you there."

Michonne spotted Deanna a few groups of people away, as she waved goodbye to Daryl and Maggie. She knew if they were accosted by the voluble woman there was no way they would have time to do what they both needed to do and be on time per Maggie's instructions. She caught Rick's attention, tipping her chin in Deanna's direction, and he quickly ushered them toward the exit. They escaped the auditorium with his hand resting on the small of her back as he steered her down the corridor leading to the parking lot exit. The warmth and firmness of his touch had her advancing her pace, desiring to use every minute they had before they were expected to join the others.

They made it to Rick's vehicle and he opened the door, unabashedly staring at her as she climbed in and crossed her legs inside the tight skirt that encased her thighs. The weather was gifting them a stretch of mild temperatures and she had happily skipped pantyhose when she had dressed for work this morning, in hopes that the day would end like this. She watched Rick as he got behind the wheel, gazing at the side of his face as he drove and smiling every time he briefly tore his eyes from the road and glanced her way. She could tell by his set jaw and white knuckle hold on the steering wheel that he had plans for her and she was more than eager to find out what they were.

As they pulled down the street that led to his house, he reached up and started to unbutton the collar of his uniform with one hand, loosening the tie that he was forced to wear for the occasion. He freed himself from the item and chucked it over his shoulder into the back seat, causing her to laugh. The sweet sound only spurred him on more as he turned into his driveway, gravel crunching loudly beneath his tires as he came to a quick stop. Michonne stayed still, having been conditioned to allow him to open her door for her, which he did with one hand, while wrapping the other around her waist and lifting her from the car.

"Careful," she warned in a slow whisper. She trusted he was up for this, but he certainly didn't need to test his limits just yet.

Without responding to her admonition, he let her down to the ground, walking them backward until she was backed against the side of his car, pinned by his body. He purposefully allowed his chest to press against hers without so much as a flinch, and tilted his head toward her with a challenging look, reminding her again that he was almost back to his old self.

"Inside," she ordered, shuddering at the way he was looming over her, his intention written all over his face. He grabbed her ass to lift her again, but as much as she loved being manhandled by him, she shook her head. She firmly, grabbed his hand, escaping his hold to lead him toward the door. They pushed through to the living room and Rick captured her, seizing her lips and parting them immediately. They had no time to waste.

"Fifteen minutes to shower and change...ten minute drive..." His tongue danced with hers intermittently as he worked out the math. "We've got thirty minutes left." She smiled against his lips as he lead her to his bedroom without breaking their kiss. "I'm gonna try to use 'em all, but it's been a long time," he laughed.

Michonne laughed with him as she tumbled backward onto his bed and his hands immediately went to her blouse, unbuttoning as fast as his fingers would work. The thin fabric of his uniform slacks was much less discreet than his jeans, and she could tell there would be no time wasted getting ready on his end. When he had freed her from her shirt, he grabbed the hem of her skirt and pushed it up her thighs in one motion, leaving it bunched around her waist. She tried to reach for the small leather strap of her shoes that wrapped around her ankle, but he shook his head. "Leave 'em on. No time."

She smiled seductively at him as he stood up, leaving her sprawled before him on her back, her knees bent so that her heels were digging into his mattress. He unbuttoned his belt and his pants, letting them fall to his feet as his hands went to work on his own shirt buttons. "Mmm mmm," she stopped him. "No time."

He gave her a cocky smile, remembering her confession in the hot tub about his uniform, and left his shirt on. He unfastened the cuffs of the long-sleeved dress uniform and took a few moments to roll the sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his thick, tan forearms. She very near swooned as he grabbed her panties and roughly pulled them down her legs, rubbing the fabric between his fingers to feel if she was as ready as he was. Satisfied, he took hold of her ankles and pulled her so her hips were at the edge of the bed. He was going to remain standing, she realized and she immediately approved of the position, knowing it would leave his very recently recovered upper body out of the fray.

"You're good?" she asked as he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her so she could wrap her legs around him.

"I'm so good," he answered.

She glanced over at the clock on his bedside table. "Twenty minutes," she said.

Rick needed no further reminders. He obliterated the distance between them, sinking in slowly to try to keep his promise of using all of their time. It was a struggle though. He didn't want to ever go weeks without this feeling again. He briefly thought of Gareth and his men and considered that if he had known the injuries he sustained taking them out would lead to the torture of not being inside Michonne every night, he might have shot him right then and there.

Michonne was having trouble holding on as well. She had a perfect view of the work he was doing, watching as every thrust of his hips exploded into an electric shock inside her. She could tell he was going to have to give in soon, because he removed one hand from her ass cheek and placed it between them, pushing the button he knew would send her over the edge.

A few moments later he watched her let go, a wave of relief washing over his face as he followed her, struggling to keep his knees from buckling with the force. He finally released his hold on her and took a shaky step toward the bed to sit down. "Five minutes to spare," he laughed, not entirely proud of his post recovery stamina, but satisfied nonetheless. He gently laid himself down, turning on his side to face her. Any doubts he had went out the window when he took in her parted lips and slitted eyes as she worked to regain her composure.

She blindly reached a hand out to draw him closer, her eyes still focusing on the ceiling as she settled her breathing. Rick lay his head on her shoulder and she ran her fingers through his curls, intending to use those last five minutes to relish in the feeling of his warm, heavy body beside her.

"God I love you," he whispered, a sated sensation winding through him and tugging on his eyelids.

"I love you too," she said, watching his breathing soften as she caressed his head. "Rick...don't you dare fall asleep. Maggie will kill us."

…

Rick stifled a yawn as he walked down the sidewalk, Michonne's arm wrapped casually around his as they made their way to Morgan's. They had taken a few extra minutes in each other's arms, forcing them to speed through the showering and dressing part of their allotted time, and all the rushing had only further exhausted him.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" she asked, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked. It had been a long day, even if he wasn't supposed to be taking it easy.

"I am. It's good to finally be out of the house. Next time I get shot, I'm going to make sure it's in the summer so I can relax outside, instead of being cooped up in my living room."

"That's not funny," she said quietly. Seeing Deanna pin a medal on him for the second time in the six months they had known each other, had only further served to remind her that nothing was ever promised in this life.

He turned his head to kiss her forehead in apology for his morbid joke. "It'll be nice to have everyone together for the night. The last couple times we tried it didn't really work out between getting mugged and Lori showin' up."

"That's true," she said as they approached the door. "Maybe we'll have better luck tonight."

"We'd better. I've had enough of those kinda nights."

"Well, this is also where we met, so the place isn't all that unlucky," she smiled, letting him open the door for her.

"True," he agreed as they stepped into the dimly lit bar, soft country music welcoming them in. "But we were gonna meet no matter what. Just happened to be here."

"You think so?"

"Of course," he shrugged. "If I was going to make it in this life, it had to be with you beside me."

She stopped walking and turned to him, still surprised by the way he casually said things like that, as if his heart and his tongue were always completely on the same page. "You're one of a kind, Grimes," she said, feeling tears start to burn the back of her eyelids.

Rick looked at her as if he didn't quite understand what she was so taken with, but was willing to accept it either way. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a kiss as they came to stand at the bar.

"You think they plan on joining us?" Abe asked, pointing his beer bottle at Rick and Michonne from across the room. Shane and Andrea occupied the chairs on one side of their usual table, while Maggie, Glenn and Abe sat across from them in the long booth. They all turned to look at the couple at the bar, who were seemingly oblivious to the group waiting for them. Rick had his arms around Michonne in a bear hug and was saying something that was eliciting a fit of giggles from her.

"I don't know man," Shane said. "But, I do know those two deserve each other, cause Rick ain't that funny."

"They do deserve each other," Andrea agreed. "And I think I deserve a little credit here." She swirled the liquid around in her glass before taking a sip. "Or did you all forget that this was my doing?"

"Yeah, thanks, Andrea, for subjecting us to all this sickeningly sweet PDA we are forced to watch now," Glenn snickered.

"You're one to talk," Abe said gesturing to him and Maggie.

"Well, I think it's great and I'm impressed. Andrea saw it way before any of us did, including the two of them." Maggie turned her head, taking another look at Rick and Michonne, before tapping her glass to Andrea's.

"Thanks, Maggie. Now someone go get them," Andrea said.

Glenn turned over his shoulder and whistled sharply, getting Rick's attention. He waved to them and the two crossed the room, hand in hand, to join their friends.

"Jesus, you two ever _not_ one minute away from screwing?" Abraham boomed as he stood to greet them.

Rick muttered something at him, considering pointing out that he was about an hour too late on that observation, but he decided to greet Shane instead, leaving Michonne to deal with him.

"Abe, you are so eloquent, anybody ever tell you that?" she joked.

"I've been called a lot of things, Missy. That ain't one of 'em." He reached for her, pulling her into a stifling embrace and she complied. Michonne held a new affection for the boorish man after their ride to the hospital the night Rick was shot. Despite his crass exterior, he was a loyal friend that cared very much about the people in his life, she respected that. Of course they shared a lot of those people in common, so she also took a little comfort knowing he was watching out for everyone.

"Ford's gettin' awful handsy with your girl," Shane said to Rick, as Abraham released her and pulled her down into the booth beside him.

"Well, he was smart to wait until I was laid up, so I couldn't kick his ass," he laughed, taking the seat on the other side of Michonne.

"In your dreams, Grimes," Abraham guffawed, giving Michonne a loud kiss on the cheek for the sake of being irritating.

Glenn was about to question Rick as to Daryl's whereabouts when he and Rosita walked through the door together, hand in hand and the group passed around confused looks.

"I told you," Michonne whispered in Rick's ear as he took a sip of beer, eyeing his secretive friend.

"I can't take credit for that one," Andrea smirked. They watched as the two made their way over, looking entirely comfortable together.

"Didn't know it was couple's night," Abe joked as Daryl grabbed a chair from a nearby table and offered it to Rosita. "I woulda got a babysitter, had Francine join us."

"You should have done that anyway." Sasha came around the corner then, sliding into the booth on the other side of Rick. "Or you could stay home and she could come," she smiled.

"Y'all would miss me terribly," Abe said.

"I'd miss the free drinks," Sasha replied. "You order me one yet?"

"Alright, honey, I'll get you caught up, but I got a few words I need to spill first now that you've all gathered round." He handed Sasha his beer and stood ceremoniously to address the table. They were used to Abe's drunken soliloquies, so they all settled in their chairs to give him their attention as he cleared his throat and began. "I think Deputy Dixon will join me, as I take a moment to thank Rick here for his continued effort to advance our careers, having now earned both of us medals for saving his ass."

Rick laughed, lifting his glass to each of the men, as Michonne slid her hand into his, under the table.

"In all seriousness," he said, his tone dropping. "I watched the life damn near drain from your body, Rick. What you went through after would have tested any man's limits, but we all watched you pull yourself out of it and get back up, more ready than ever to tear the world a new asshole."

"Here. Here," Glenn said, smiling at his friend.

"Now, I have a feeling that has something to do with this pretty lady here tickling your…"

"Abe," Rick interrupted with a sharp look, as Glenn's smile turned into a cringe.

"How much have you had to drink?" Michonne asked, stifling a laugh.

"I am a large man and I have had several beers to compensate for that fact," Abraham announced. "What I'm trying to say here," he continued, "Rick, thank you for surviving. Michonne, thanks for pulling his head out of his ass, and Daryl, thanks for continuing the good fight of saving his hide. We're glad you made it, buddy, cause, damn it, this world needs Rick Grimes."

Rick shook his head and smiled humbly as their friends responded with cheers and nods of agreement. He met Daryl's glass with his own from across the table, and took a sip, sharing a private smile with Michonne.

…

The night was coming to a close, everyone having settled into smaller, quieter conversations. Michonne had her arms casually draped around Rick's neck as they swayed beside Glenn and Maggie on the dance floor. She'd learned the trick to convincing him to dance with her that night they had spent away, and she decided to employ it tonight. She'd ordered another round, picked a sappy song on the jukebox and dragged him out there for a little one on one time.

"Abe is right you know," she said, tilting her head up to look into his blue eyes that were cloudy with alcohol and contentment. "The world does need you. I need you. You gave me a reason to believe in good again, because you're good." She tapped his chest with her finger, feeling herself getting lost in his eyes like a lovestruck teenager, but she didn't care one bit. She'd found a diamond in a hard, rocky world, and she was going to gaze at it every chance she could.

Rick pulled her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head and sighing. "He doesn't exactly have a way with words, but you know he was right about you being the reason I'm here. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," she said, turning so she could lay her cheek on his chest. "This goes both ways."

"I'm gonna thank you anyway," he whispered. "How about we call it a night so I can thank you privately." He slid his hands from her back to her ass and gave her a light tap. She giggled into his chest, looking past his shoulder at the bar behind them where they had their first exchange. She remembered the intense, brooding man she had met her first night in her new hometown and how he had slowly revealed a charming, sweet side that had brightened her life in a way that made her think she had always been living in the dark. Maybe Rick was right, they were destined to meet, to guide each through the pain and to the other side, like the moon making the night less scary.

"You want to stay at my place or yours?" he asked, as the song ended and he released her hips in favor of holding her hand.

"How about our place?" she suggested, watching his eyes open wide. "If the offer still stands."

"Yeah?" he asked, tipping her chin toward him to study her face.

"Yeah," she smiled.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them over for her to drive. "Let's go home then."

-END-


End file.
